Open Arms I
by The River Watcher
Summary: When Michaela's mother dies when she is five years old, her world is shattered. As she grows through the years, learning about the world that is unfolding around her will her father be enough to teach her everything she needs to know? Part One is Complete
1. Chapter 1

Believe it or not, I'm not Beth Sullivan or CBS and so I don't own these characters, their just on lease.

**Worlds Apart**

**Chapter 1**

Michaela Quinn was five years old when she stood next to her baby brother's grave. In truth, she had no concept of what was happening. She didn't grasp the magnitude of this little ceremony, or that the little coffin she saw lowered into the grave held the body of a brother she never knew. She didn't understand the words that the strange man in black was saying as he clutched at the handful of dirt in his hand, but the one thing Michaela did know was that her father was crying and for that, she felt that she should be upset as well.

"_Mike, princess, there's something I must tell you." He watched as Michaela turned over in her bed and looked up at him so innocently. He had no idea how to explain something like this. He didn't even know how to begin._

"_What father?"She yawned; her singsong voice was small and bright, without a care in the world. Death was too hard a lesson to learn at five years of age. _

"_Do you remember me telling you about your little brother?" Michaela smiled. _

"_The baby?" She had been so excited when she was first told she would get to be a big sister. Much to her mother's dismay, Joseph had insisted on explaining to his little Mike all about _

_babies and how they came to be, with certain discretion of course. "Is the baby here, father?" She sat up expectantly in the bed and tugged on his sleeve. Why wouldn't he look at her?_

"_No, princess, the baby isn't here." Reaching over to her, Joseph pulled her into his lap, cradling her little body to his chest. It was a comforting move, but one meant to comfort him more than the little girl in his arms. "The baby had to go to live in heaven." Michaela's brow furrowed, trying to understand what that meant. _

"_So it's not here?"_

"_No."_

"_And it's not coming?"_

"_No." _

_Michaela lay her head on her father's chest. She knew that this was supposed to be something big, but she wasn't sad. She hadn't known the baby. He wasn't a fixture in her life; just a little thing that had been talked about for several months and now he was gone, but nothing in Michaela's life had changed. She couldn't bring herself to feel anything. However, looking up, against her father's chest, Michaela could see a tear roll down his cheek. The tears glistened in the hall light before disappearing into his thick beard. Lifting her hand to Joseph's face, she wiped at his cheek with her flat little palm. _

"_Don't cry, father." She whispered before planting a kiss to his cheek. _

That had been nearly three days ago. Now, Michaela found herself, still in the swirl of sadness and confusion, struggling to understand what everything meant. Squeezing her father's hand, she tucked herself into his side, attempting to allude the crisp autumn breeze. She watched as the man in black said a few last words and then her father sprinkled some dirt on the little grave. Hopefully now, things would be back to normal. They could go home again. However, despite her sincerest wish, this was not to be. Two days later, Michaela Quinn stood in this very same spot and watched as they buried her mother.

Three months before no one could have imagined that heartbreak like this was just around the corner. They couldn't have known that amongst the joy and celebration of Maureen Quinn's marriage a dark shadow would soon fall upon the happy little family. Everything was just so perfect, too perfect really. Maureen's new husband, Jonathan Scott simply adored his new wife and doted on her with complete devotion, and Maureen thought she was living a fairytale. The only disappointment she could claim was that her husband's occupation as assistant professor at Virginia Military Institute required the young couple to move Lexington. Maureen, having never lived outside of Boston had never anticipated moving so far from her family, but she was willing to try, and Jonathan promised that her family was welcome to visit all they wanted.

The first visit was completely Elizabeth's idea. She wanted to make the trip to visit her daughter before the baby arrived, knowing that it would be quite a while before she could venture out after her confinement. Elizabeth had been anxious to help her daughter settle her new household and likewise, Maureen was in desperate need of advice on carpeting and furniture. Marjorie was anxious about seeing a new state and Michaela was excited about riding in a train. Joseph, who took too much joy in seeing his family happy, couldn't possibly say no to the visit.

Elizabeth was supposed to have had time to make this trip. After all, the baby wasn't expected for another ten weeks, but it simply was not meant to be. Two days before they were to return home, Elizabeth began to bleed. Contractions followed not too far behind and soon she was in full fledge labor and even Joseph was powerless to stop it. It was known from the start that the baby wouldn't make it. It was just too early, but no one anticipated the puerperal fever to set in, taking Elizabeth's life not three days after her only son's birth and death.

Although Michaela had a difficult time understanding her brother's death, she immediately missed her mother's presence. For the first few nights, she often woke in tears, crying for her mother in the darkened little room of her sister's house. Joseph had taken to sleeping in the chair next to her bed, refusing both to leave his youngest daughter alone and to return to the little room, which he had shared with his wife. As difficult as it had been for him to explain to Michaela of her brother's death, her mother's passing was much, much worse.

"_Your mother needed to be with the baby in heaven, so he wouldn't have to be alone. She's going to be his mother in heaven." He had explained patiently, hoping that this would be all he needed to say, but nothing could have prepared him for Mike's next question. _

"_Why doesn't she want to be my mother anymore?" The question knocked the air out of him chest. This wasn't the way he wanted Michaela to remember her mother. He didn't want her to think she had been abandoned. _

"_Oh, but she'll always be your mother, Mike. She just has to live in heaven now."_

Now, Joseph found himself once again standing numbly beside a freshly dug grave, preparing himself to spread the broken earth across his wife's grave. _Ashes to ashes, dust to dust_. His world was slowly crumpling around him. No, that wasn't true. He still had many blessings. He had five, beautiful daughters who all had hopes and dreams that were slowly becoming realities. He still had little Mike, who was too young to understand everything by herself, and Marjorie who was only ten. She would need help making sense of all this as well, and he had to do the best for them that he could, but right now, he was just numb.

Completely unaware to the raindrops that were beginning to fall from the sky, Joseph merely held Michaela closer as he balanced her on his arm. He could feel her little hand clutch at the folds in his jacket as the service passed around them in a haze. Then, he became slowly aware of the fact that the prayer had been said and everyone was dispersing. What next?

Joseph needed to talk. He needed someone to help him figure out his next steps and he needed to go to a place where he could let his guard down. He didn't have to think. He knew immediately what he was looking for. Margaret. From the beginning of the service, Joseph was aware of his sister's presence. He knew that she had come not only to pay her respects to her sister- in law but to support her brother as well. She would help him. She would give him the strength he needed so, or at least keep him safe until he found it again. As if in a trance, Joseph began to make his way over to his faithful ally, unaware of the people who walked around him. He made only a few steps before a hand at his back broke the spell.

"Father…" Rebecca did her best to speak quietly, but loud enough to gain his attention. She had never seen him quiet like this, alone and distraught. He was always so strong, so jolly. This side truly frightened her. She was afraid he wouldn't be able to recover from this. "Father… Maureen and Jonathan have returned to the house to prepare for the wake. Claudette and I were going to take the girls with us, will you come too?"

"I can't. I… I need to be alone, to think." Rebecca nodded her head gravely.

"Claudette is already taking Marjorie to the carriage." She whispered, unsure of whether he heard her or not. Pausing for a minute, she scanned her father's eyes before slowly moving to pull Michaela into her arms.

"Nnnooo." Michaela whined as she struggled from her oldest sister's embrace.

"Come with me, Michaela. It's alright."

"No, Becca! I wanna stay with Father." Burying her face into her father's neck, Michaela wrapped her arms around him making it nearly impossible to be pulled from his grasp. She could feel him as he took a deep breath beneath her; his hand ran up her back soothingly.

"It's alright, Rebecca. She'll stay with me." His voice was quite and sad, but it reflected understanding. She had been through so much. She had lost a brother and a mother. Of course, she didn't want to leave her father. He was her best friend; her constant. "Don't worry about us. We'll be with your Aunt Meg." With a soft pat on his oldest daughter's shoulder, Joseph left to find his sister.

* * *

The clanking of teacups against saucers filled the quiet little room, slicing through the oppressing atmosphere like a knife. Joseph sat, elbows on knees staring down at the shallow film of tea that just covered the bottom of the china cup.

"Let me pour you some more tea, darling." Margaret Quinn whispered to her brother's broken form as she tugged on the cup, pulling it out far enough to pour more warm liquid into its center before returning it to its original position. Taking her own cup and sitting, she once again released them into the silence that shrouded the little room. Neither of them spoke.

Meg sincerely believed that if there wasn't anything that _could _be said, there wasn't anything that _should_ be said. Sometimes words simply weren't enough. There was nothing that could be said to make this better; there wasn't anything that she could say that her brother hadn't already heard from family or struggled to tell himself. She didn't see any point in repeating those words. _Comforting words repeated too often were quickly void of meaning. _

It was by no means an uncomfortable silence. Actually, it was quite the opposite. It provided the ability for Joseph to sit, uninterrupted and think through the events of the week. To begin to understand what all of this meant was invaluable. It gave him the opportunity to begin to say his goodbyes, no pressure, no expectations. It was nearly an hour and a half before Joseph ventured to speak, allowing his mind wander to his biggest fears.

Looking up, Joseph glanced around the parlor, taking in the all too familiar surroundings. He had spent his boyhood in these walls, growing and learning lessons that made him who he was. It was here he found himself; he found his calling in the field of medicine, and he found his heart's desire. Elizabeth was only sixteen when she, the daughter of one of his father's acquaintances, stayed with them during her visit to the South. He had taken one look at her and known that Elizabeth Barnett was the woman he would take as his bride. He only had to convince her of that. Now, these very same walls seemed to be mocking him, laughing at his foolish dreams and destroying his hopes. Embittered, Joseph thought back to those pure days and fought back a laugh. How could he be so foolish to believe that he could have it all? It was merely a childlike fantasy to believe that they could be so happy.

"I shouldn't think you would want to travel that path long. Bitterness is not becoming of my dear brother." Meg cocked her head to one side as she considered the defeated man sitting before her. Her words weren't meant to be condescending; just a gentle tug on a string to pull his mind back from the shadow land in which he walked, and they were successful. Looking up to her, Joseph sighed.

"I was just thinking about how much this house reminded me of when we were kids."

"Oh yes, you were a naughty little rascal."

"I was no such thing."

"Really? Then what do you call a boy who plays catch in the dining room and manages to break every piece of china in the house?" Joseph winced at the memory, temporarily forgetting the constant throb that radiated through his body.

"I wasn't able to sit for days after that."

"And if I remember correctly we didn't see you for dinner for nearly a week." Meg's voice was light and reminiscent as she watched the memory flash across Joseph's face. His lips curled into a tight smile under his ashen beard. Meg let him remember it only for a moment before gently adding her point. "Life is rarely the perfection we seek it to be. We merely must learn how to make it through the pain and survive to see the future."

Once again, the air fell with a solemn hush as Joseph struggled to voice the concerns that were plaguing him. Why must he think when thoughts made no sense? Why couldn't he just speak? It was only Meg who would hear his words; he didn't have to pretend with her. Raising his teacup to his lips, Joseph took the last sip before speaking.

"What do I do now?"

"You find a way to carry on, if only for those girls."

"Rebecca and Thomas have already offered to take Marjorie and Michaela in, to raise them." Joseph's voice was solemn as he admitted this new fact. It was something that he hadn't been able to ignore. Could he do that, just give his daughters away? He knew that very few widowers raised their children after their wives dies. Often times the children were shipped to aunts, sisters, or grandparents, left to put their lives together by themselves. In truth, Joseph had always detested this practice. Why would one want to break up a family more than it already was, but then again he never considered that he too would one day be in this situation.

"You don't think this is a good idea?"

"I don't wish to tie Rebecca and Thomas down to raising her sisters when they have hardly been wed over a year." Silence once again fell over the siblings as Meg picked at the embroidery on her armchair. This moment had crossed her mind multiple times over the past few days as sheconsidered what she would do. Now that the moment arrived, her desire to ease her brother's pain made her decision for her. Heaving a sigh, she placed her teacup on the service.

"They are more than welcome to come and stay here. Katherine and I will do our best to raise them in the manner in which you and Elizabeth had planned."

_The way Elizabeth and I planned_. Why did this change anything? Why couldn't he continue to raise the girls? _Because you know nothing about raising daughters in Boston society…, but you could learn._ Joseph's mind wandered to Marjorie. Of all his daughters, she was the biggest mystery to him. It was so difficult to relate to her on the simplest terms, and at ten years of age, she would be needing a mother more than ever. She needed a female role model to teach her and help mold her into the young woman she would become, but there were schools for that, fine finishing schools that would be able to teacher her all these things and much more. Joseph had no doubt that Marjorie would thrive at such an institution but what about Michaela? She was far too young.

Thinking about his baby girl made Joseph's heart swell with pride. Closing his eyes, he could see her in his mind's eye. Her long caramel tresses blowing in the wind, as her beautiful mismatched eyes dance with joy. He could hear her joyous laugh when he carried her to bed each night, and feel the way she slipped her hand trustingly into his each time she tried to manage the stairs. Michaela by far shared more qualities with her mother than any of her sisters put together, including her stubbornness. Joseph couldn't stand to part with that. He was already afraid that Michaela felt she had been abandoned by her mother; he didn't want her to grow up thinking he 

had abandoned her as well. No, the connection that they shared was much stronger than this. It would survive this trial. He could do this. Shaking his head softly, Joseph looked to his sister, taking the time to explain his gratitude before speaking his mind.

"Marjorie will thrive in a finishing school. She'll be able to stay at home during the summer and at Christmas and still have the education she needs."

"And Michaela?"

"I can't move her, Meg. I can't ask her to give up everything she's ever known. She's only five for goodness sake! She shouldn't have to grow up this fast." He cried his anger into the little room, his hand tightening into a fist.

"Do you think this is what's best for her?"

"I can do this for her. I can be her father and her mother."

"But Joseph, you know nothing about girls."

"I can learn…I can learn to be all she needs." His final words seemed to be more of an effort to convince himself.

Meg had watched patiently as her brother travelled the emotional road from shock to pain to anger. Finally, he had settled into determination, and she automatically understood that there was no changing his mind once it was settled. Stubbornness was an infamous trait of the Quinn clan and once a decision was made there was no going back. Rising from her seat, she moved to her younger brother and leaning over, she planted a kiss to top of his head.

"If there is ever anything you need from me, never be afraid to ask me. I will do anything for you and those girls." Joseph pulled his sister down to sit next to him on the sofa before wrapping her in a tight embrace.

"You're my angel Meg."

* * *

Michaela sat huddled in the window seat in the large library, staring helplessly out the window. She watched as the rain poured from the heavens, drenching the earth below, turning all the bright colors of autumn into shades of drab grey and green. The wind was blowing hard, causing the large branches of an oak tree nearby to bend to the window, tapping it in a ghostly rhythm. Raindrops landed on the dark green leaves before rolling down the smooth surface and dropping silently to the ground. Drop after drop made this journey. It looked as if even the trees were crying. Wordlessly, Michaela wiped at her own tears making the track down her cheek.

No one knew she was in the library. The last anyone had heard of her was shortly after Joseph had arrived with Meg. He carried his young daughter's tired body straight upstairs and lay her down in one of the oversized beds, making sure she was still asleep before he left her there, but as with the nights past, Michaela woke wanting her mother. Instead, she found herself alone in a strange room. Sniffling, the little girl rolled off the edge of the enormous bed and landed on the floor. Michaela knew that her father hadn't gone far. He would never leave her; he probably just went some place where he didn't have to be quiet when she slept but she was awake now. He could come back. Turning toward the door, she set out to search for her father.

Michaela struggled with the steps as usual as she made her way into the Great Hallway. Standing at the foot of the stairs, she looked left then right trying to decide where to start. Everything was just so big! It felt as though she could spend days in this house and never find anyone. Slipping a finger into her mouth, Michaela began to chew at her fingernail nervously. That's when she heard the china rattle. Smiling broadly, she jaunted off to the sound. However, as she got to the entrance of the parlor, she didn't continue into the room. Instead, she stopped dead in her tracks and, hugging herself unseen against the doorjamb, watched the scene before her.

Her Father was sitting on a black little sofa, bent over with his head hanging low; he was holding a teacup in his hands. Michaela frowned. He was sad. She watched as the strange woman Father called Meg came into view, standing over her father's figure as she whispered something to him. Michaela knew that she wasn't wanted here. She would only make things worse. Once again slipping her finger into her mouth, she turned from the door. Her eyes brightened a little when she way the library door standing wide open across the hallway. At home, when she was sad or lonely, the library full of books always helped. Maybe this one would too. Timidly, Michaela walked across the hall and stuck her head into the room. The large space with the tall oak paneled walls and large floor to ceiling windows took her breath away. Surely she wasn't supposed to be in a room so beautiful, but what if…? Looking back to the room where her father was sitting, she made certain that no one was watching her. Why did she feel as though she was doing something she shouldn't? She had always been allowed in the library at her house. This wasn't any different. Summoning her own courage, she turned back to the massive room and stepped inside.

After choosing a book and pulling herself up to the window seat, Michaela quietly sat and watched the rain fall outside. It was strange sitting by the window. Looking up, and to the side, and on all directions, Michaela felt as if she were actually sitting in the rain. It looked as each drop was dropping to her, threatening to soak her to the core and yet she stayed completely dry. The raindrops couldn't reach her. Nothing could reach her. Michaela felt alone and scared. She didn't understand why this was happening, and she wasn't sure what would happen next. Looking back to the parlor, where she knew her father still sat, Michaela felt a strange emotion tingle through her body.

What frightened Michaela the most was her father. She had never seen him without a smile before and now he was crying all the time. It all had started when Mother left and with the completion of that thought, Michaela's little beating heart stilled, sending shivers up her back. Would Father leave too? He couldn't… he couldn't go away now. What would she do then? 

Where would she go? Father had always been there. He was the one that carried her to bed each night and rocked her when she had a nightmare. He read to her on the rainy days and told her stories about the hospital. Michaela didn't want to do those things by herself; she didn't know how. He couldn't leave her, then she would be all alone. Michaela was scared to be alone.

Lowering her head back to the book laying upon in her lap, Michaela scratched at the black and white illustration with her half chewed fingernail, watching as a tear rolled down her cheek and landed on the page, discoloring the paper.

"Don't be sad."

The strange voice startled Michaela, making her jump as she looked up urgently. Turning to the sound that had interrupted her thoughts, she struggled to wipe at her tears. There, standing in the doorway was a boy, about her age with ruffled brown hair and bright olive skin. He was watching her intently with these piercing blue eyes that made Michaela shudder as she stared back at him, unsure of what to say.

"What?" She watched as the boy shoved his hands into his pockets and wandered over to where she was sitting.

"Don't be sad." He repeated as if that was all that needed to be said. Michaela sniffled and attempted to wipe the rest of the tears away, hoping to destroy all evidence that they ever existed.

"I can't help it."

"'Cause your ma died?"

"How do you know?"Michaela wrinkled her forehead as she stared up at the boy standing next to her.

"I heard Ma an' Miss Meg talkin' this mornin'." His lips tightened into a thin straight line as he shoved his hands deeper in his pockets. The boy paused for a moment, diverting his eyes from the tear strain face in front of him as he waited for her to say something, but she didn't open her mouth. Rocking back and forth in the silence, he searched for something, anything to say. Taking a breath, he pulled his hand from his pocket and offered it to the strange girl as he had seen his pa do many times. "My name's Sully. My ma n' pa work here for Miss Meg."

Shifting her gaze from his face to his hand, Michaela watched as her hand reached out and took his. "I'm Michaela."

"You're Miss Meg's niece." Michaela merely nodded. Once again, Sully's face fell as he watched tears well behind his new friend's already red rimmed eyes. He lowered his eyes, feeling like he bothered her when she would rather be by herself. He always liked to be by himself when he was sad. "I'm sorry about your ma." He whispered as he turned to leave the little room, but he was stopped by a slight tug on his hand.

"Please don't go." Michaela found it within her to openly sob now, her shoulder's heaving as she struggled to take a deep breath. As Sully moved closer to the bench where she sat, he let go of her hand and let her lean on him before wrapping his arms around her the way his ma always did when he cried. He bit the inside of his cheek as he thought about his ma. He couldn't imagine what it would be like for her to go away and not come back. It was enough to make him want to cry as well, but his ma was still here, it was Michaela's who had gone away. His heart broke for her.

"I'm scared, Sully." She whispered into the folds of his cotton play shirt, feeling his arms around her and his hand smooth at her hair. The repetitive motion was comforting, reminding her that she wasn't by herself anymore.

"It's ok ta cry." He whispered, standing stock still as her shoulders heaved against his chest. He subconsciously threaded his fingers through her hair as he turned out the window watching as the rain beat against the glass panes. It was storming so hard the he couldn't see anything outside. It was all a misty haze.

"What' going to happen to us?" Sully tightened his hold on Michaela as she whispered her biggest question, the question that lead to all her fears. Resting his chin on top of her head, he held her steadily. Her tears, like the rain outside, continued to flow.

_Ok guys, so here's the new story. I'm excited to see what you think!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Five years later**

There was a house on Beacon Hill, seventeenth Mount Vernon Street to be precise. It was a rather large, two story brick Georgian style home with large gaping windows that looked like smiling eyes. Black shutters flanked the windows softening the harshness of rigid lines. The front door was a green color, and the well-worn knocker on front suggested that this door had seen quite a number of guests. The front stoop by itself was harsh and cold, but the black little iron handle added a touch of comfort, of friendliness. 'Come walk these steps. Step through my door and visit me,' it seemed to whisper. A small iron railing fence, one that matched the handrail, ran around the front exterior of the home offering a sanctuary for beds of immaculately kept roses, a homage paid to one loved and lost.

As friendly and welcoming as the front of this little home appeared to be, the back yard was oh, so much better. The modest piece of land was enclosed by a tall, fence that scanned around the perimeter hiding to the naked eye what little treasures lay inside. Along the inside, edge of the fence ran a beautiful mixture of marigolds, petunias, and lavenders, alternating in color and promising a haven of fragrance each spring. However, the single object favored by all who entered this little yard was the large maple tree.

The tree sat almost dead center in the little yard with branches that reached far to the heavens. To one side of the tree these branches held a modest little swing, once hastily assembled with wood and rope, now living to see each new swinger as she came to it for a day of fun. It was like an old friend, that tree. It was a refuge that would hold you in its protective embrace until all the hurt went away. It would listen to your problems and never judge or talk back. It simply accepted you for who you were as long as you would allow yourself to sit and swing, of course.

On this day, late autumn of 1843, the large branches of the precious tree shook violently, sending pieces of its beautiful canopy fluttering to the ground. There wasn't any wind. The sun was beaming brightly on the earth just before she nestled herself behind the horizon, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and yet the limbs still shook.

"Michaela Quinn, 'tis soon your father'll be comin' up the walk. Dinner's waitin' ta be served and there'll be no waitin' on you ta make yourself presentable." A thick set, grey haired woman stood in the kitchen doorway, with hands on her hips as she yelled into the wide-open space. Her thick Irish accent caused her words to sound much harsher than they actually were. The older woman didn't seem to be bothered by the fact that she was speaking to an empty yard. There wasn't another soul in sight; she merely just kept her eyes trained constantly on the large maple tree. The limbs began to shake harder as more leaves tumbled to the earth. Sure enough, a little head popped out from the thick vegetation, staring at her from it's upside down position.

"I'll be there in a moment, Martha." Michaela, smiled brightly. She watched as Martha went grumbling back into the house before attempting to climb down in privacy. She didn't want Martha to witness her decent, and the reason of her secretiveness was quite simple. There just wasn't much of a 'ladylike' way to climb down from trees like this one, and Martha always seemed to be poking and prodding in one way or another about acting like a 'lady.' Certainly if she witnessed the wild and free movements with which Michaela swung from limb to limb there would be a lecture in it for the ten year old. It seemed as though Martha's saved up for her lectures, quietly filing away all the child's crimes until one day she couldn't keep her mouth shut any longer. Michaela would be forced to sit there and listen about how she should have behaved at tea a week ago, how she shouldn't have slid down the banister to meet her father one day, and how she most certainly should not be climbing trees in ways that made her bloomers show. Martha felt it her duty to tell Michaela these things. After all, the poor dear had no mother. It had been over five years and Dr. Quinn refuse even to look at another woman much less marry again. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if the good doctor noticed these things himself and made comment to his daughter about them, but when he looked at Michaela he only saw spirit and freedom. He loved these traits in his daughter and never desired to change them, and so Martha kept on lecturing and Michaela just nodded and smiled, keeping one eye on the older woman and another on the cookie jar wondering what had been made that morning. She had no interest in Martha's lectures. In truth, she saw it as a waste of time. There wasn't any point. When Michaela grew up, she was going to be a doctor, not a lady.

Wrapping her arms around the tree limb from which she dangled, Michaela mimicked the motion with her legs and swung herself so that she hung completely upside down. Slowly she lowered one leg, keeping the other wrapped securely around the limb. Then the other came down so that she was just hanging on by her arms. Letting go, Michaela landed directly on her feet and squatted. As she stood, she hit at her skirt, attempting to remove all dust from her person as she entered the back door of the house. It was almost simultaneous as Michaela entered the house she heard the front door shut. She froze in place, her eyes huge with excitement before she went running through the house, bounding around the dining room table, and leaping over an ottoman sitting in foyer.

"Father!" She never even slowed down as she felt two hands tuck under her arms and swing her through the air.

"Oh, Mike." The low bass sang as Joseph Quinn pulled his daughter to his chest and planting a firm kiss to her cheek before setting her on the ground.

"I was just coming in for dinner. I suppose I spent too much time outside today." Michaela blushed and looked down at her feet. Her shoes were scuffed.

"I can tell." Joseph laughed. Reaching up, he pulled a twig out of her hair and handed it to her. "It's no matter, though. Did you have a good time?"

"I did."

"Well then that's all that's important." The confirmation made Michaela smile. "Well go on and wash up and I'll be waiting on you for dinner."

"Yes sir." Michaela wasted no time in following her father's instructions. Within a second, she had already made it halfway upstairs.

"How was work today, Father?" Michaela asked as she picked at the pot roast on her plate. Wrinkling her nose, she pushed the meat back and forth, spreading a thin layer of gravy across the white china.

"It was quite an interesting day, actually." He answered and then added, "Don't play with your food, Mike." Laying her fork down, Michaela turned in his direction and smiled.

"Did you get to see anything interesting today?" She grabbed for her glass and took a sip of milk before setting it back down.

"Well, Mrs. Hinson came in about two thirty this afternoon." Michaela wrinkled her nose and frowned.

"Is she still having trouble with her indigestion?"

"She is."

"And she's taking the antacids that you gave her?" Joseph smiled, watching the way his daughter was thinking.

"Yes, but those aren't preventative. They just help the symptoms once they set in.

"So… then… what was she eating?"

"Nothing too unusual fried chicken, meatloaf, grilled fish. Things like that." he answered, purposefully vague and waited for the next question. He wondered if Michaela would think to ask all the questions to get the information she needed to diagnose Mrs. Hinson's condition.

Michaela picked up her fork and took a bite of her steamed carrots as she thought. This had been a game with them since she was very young. It was Joseph's way of explaining to her what it was he did when he had to spend so much time away from her. It was this game of questions and answers, these deep conversations that challenged Michaela's mind and gave her a desire to do what her father did. She wanted to be a doctor. She wanted to be important and to help people who were hurting the way he did. Michaela chewed her food carefully before speaking.

"When does she usually eat?" Michaela watched as her father's face spread into a wide grin. _Bingo._ She had hit the right question. Michaela felt herself grin proudly.

"The Hinson's usually sit down to dinner about eight thirty. What would be your prescription, Dr. Quinn?" The title made Michaela's heart skip a beat.

"I would suggest that they perhaps eat around six thirty or seven. That way she had time to digest properly before she goes to bed."

"I quite agree." Joseph Quinn nodded as he took a bit of his roast.

Five years ago, Joseph Quinn would never have believed that life could be like this. He had found himself standing in a darkened tunnel unsure of where the end would find him, but he eventually found out that the outcome was not as bleak as he had thought it would be. Of course, he missed his Elizabeth. There wasn't a day that he didn't think about her, a morning that he didn't roll over to expect to see her sleeping soundly next to him, but he couldn't change that. Looking across the table to Michaela, Joseph felt another smile threatening to spread across his face. She was so beautiful.

At first, Joseph had been afraid that Michaela would reject him in every way. That she would desire her mother and retreat into herself, but the exact opposite happened. Michaela clutched to him even tighter. She wanted to be where he was and do what he was doing. She showed interest the things he said and did and asked him questions. It wasn't difficult at all to be Michaela's father. He simply had to keep up with her desire to know more. Through him, Michaela's world was limitless. She laughed, and played, and followed in his shadow. He was her hero. Joseph sighed, if only Marjorie had been that easy.

"What's wrong, Father?" Michaela asked as she took another bite.

"I was just remembering that I received a letter from Marjorie today." Michaela's eyes grew wider. As much of a familiar confidant her father had become, Marjorie seemed almost like a stranger, a girl that came and stayed with them for a few months during the summer. Michaela knew this wasn't true, she knew that this wasn't the way things were supposed to be, and she desperately wanted a sister who was closer to her own age. Somehow, she imagined having a sister wouldn't be that much different from having a mother.

"Is she coming home for her birthday next week?"

"Actually she said that she'd prefer it if we let her go home with a friend of hers."

"Sarah Clarkson?"

"Yes, I believe so. I believe it really will be for the best, Mike. Rebecca said that Thomas is frazzled with his law practice and Maureen is still in her confinement period. I believe Claudette was attempting to put together a social for before Christmas." Joseph watched as Michaela's face fell. "We'll all be able to celebrate at Christmas when all of your sisters can be here."

Michaela bit her tongue as she nodded understanding her father's logic. She just didn't understand Marjorie's thoughts. How could she not want to be home for her birthday? Michaela stabbed at another carrot before pushing her plate back.

Joseph knew she was disappointed, but all would be well. It was only for right now. Marjorie would still be coming home for Christmas. Struggling to find something to say, Joseph glanced down at his watch and smiled. Oh, how could he have forgotten?

"Well are you ready for the ballet, Friday night?

Michaela swallowed and smiled. She had been looking forward to this for so long. She couldn't even begin to describe it. She loved it when her father took her to the theater. He always paraded her around and introduced her to all his colleagues and friends. One time he even told her that he was proud to have her on his arm, that she was the prettiest lady there. She felt so grown.

"I can't wait."

Marjorie sat on her quaint little bed. The room she shared here at the boarding school was bright and cheery. There was rose petal paper covering the walls and the two little beds were covered with colorful handmade quilts. There was a beautiful view from the windows and porcelain figurines portrayed happy scenes along the windowsill, but Marjorie could only see these little pretties when the lights were on. When the lights were out, or merely dimmed like they were now, the bright room became dark and drab, void of all color. The little luxuries of the bedspreads and figurines disappeared. The girly touches were no longer there and the picture of her mother that sat by her bed faded into the darkness. When the lights were out, Marjorie was only aware of the bed she sat on.

Marjorie carelessly flipped through the pages of a book she should be reading for French class. Everything looked like gibberish to her; she couldn't understand anything, and she was getting frustrated staring at a page she couldn't even read. Heaving a sigh, Marjorie slammed the book shut and threw it against the wall enjoying the loud thud that echoed through the little room. She pulled the covers up to her chin and settled herself back against the headboard of her bed.

Today had been an unimportant day, as tomorrow would prove to be. It seemed as if each day that passed only got worse from the one before. All of her classes were coming to an end and they would be having final exams in the weeks before Christmas. Marjorie knew that she would struggle to pass most of them, all of them really, except arithmetic. For some strange reason arithmetic was the one thing that came easily to Marjorie. It's not that she liked math or numbers, it was just the only thing she didn't have to work for, and she often retreated to her arithmetic journals as a means to keep her mind busy when she got frustrated, like now.

Marjorie grabbed a notebook off her nightstand and began to jot down problems randomly, scrolling down the page before starting another column to the side. Before she was finished, however, she was interrupted.

"Eeee!" The screech came flying into the room and was accompanied by a large object crashing on the bed, shaking the mattress as it landed.

"Sarah!" Marjorie laughed, a smile stretching to replace the frustration that had etched her face not a minute before. "What are you doing?"

"I just got a letter from home!" The little girl giggled, stretching herself out across her friend's bed.

Sarah Clarkson was absolutely beautiful. She was short and slender. She had the most beautiful ivory colored skin and deep-set grey eyes that were always shining. Her lips were the color of a rose and her hair a raven black. She was perfect in every way. She could do all the things Marjorie couldn't. Sarah moved with soft flowing steps, her back was beautifully straight and she had such a long gorgeous neck. Part of Marjorie wanted to be jealous of her for this perfection, but she just couldn't be. Sarah seemed to be blind of all their differences; she simply adored Marjorie.

"What did _home_ say?" Marjorie teased.

"Mama said that she would love to have us come home for your birthday. There will be so much for us to do. I want to take you to the museums and the park. Would you like to take a night and go the symphony?" Marjorie just shrugged.

"It's up to you, Sarah. You know what's fun to do in New York."

"But it's your birthday, silly."

"I'm just happy Father let me go home with you so I didn't have to go back to Boston." Sarah sat and watched her friend for a minute. Marjorie very rarely spoke of her family at home and Sarah only knew what was picked up in conversations. Her face softened at her friend's words and yet 

she chose not to say anything. Sarah simply threw her arms around Marjorie's neck and planted a kiss to her cheek.

"It doesn't matter. I'll make sure you have a wonderful birthday." Sarah whispered before standing to climb into her own bed.

Taking a deep breath, Marjorie looked back down to her list of math problems and sighed. She smiled. She was too happy to work math problems now. She was going to New York, and for the next week, she wouldn't be able to think of anything else.

_Yay!! chapter 2, and it didn't even take a whole week! I hope you enjoyed!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"More tea Miss Quinn?" Miriam Hathwell asked holding a little teapot out to her friend sitting across the makeshift table from her. She sat perfectly straight with an elegant air as she presented the tea out in one graceful motion waiting for the reply, struggling not to giggle as she watched Michaela Quinn press an ivory hand to her chest as her mouth drop open in an offended manner.

"Why you forget Miss Hathwell I am a doctor now. Recently graduated from Harvard though I am, I must say the practice is thriving." Michaela rolled her eyes as she had seen Miriam's mother do on more than one occasion when someone had forgotten their manners.

"Of course, how could I have been so forgetful? You must forgive me. Would you like more tea_, Doctor Quinn_?" Michaela lost all elegance as she fought against her smile. Society ladies never laughed in public, but Michaela couldn't help it. Bursting into giggles, she nodded her desire to Miriam while she clutched the china doll, sitting in her lap, to her chest.

"A little milk too, please." Michaela asked, smiling across the stool. The two girls often had tea parties like this when they spent the afternoon together. Often times, such as now, there was a careful construction of a fort out of various chairs, stool, and quilts that preceded the party. A small footstool was used as a table and the effect was finished off with Michaela, Miriam, their various dolls surrounding the table and Miriam's play tea set. It was truly a world of their own creation where nothing bad could touch them. All they wanted in life, they could simply make up on the spot. They could be anyone they wanted to be and do anything they wished to do. The possibilities were endless. Both the girls loved it when they were able to spend the afternoon in tea, and the only thing that made it better was when Mrs. Hathwell was in an exceptionally good mood and allowed them to have real tea in the tea set. She even allowed the girls to have a small assortment of finger foods with their party this afternoon. Miriam and Michaela were in absolute heaven.

Michaela turned to the fresh plate of food as the smell of hot tea filled the air. "What do you want to eat," she asked bending over the plate, carefully picking at a chocolate danish.

"A cucumber sandwich, please." Michaela complied and handed the food to her friend, smiling as she took a sip of tea. Her crossed knees bounced with happiness.

Miriam Hathwell was Michaela's absolute best friend in the entire world. She was the only girl at school who seemed to truly accept Michaela, choosing not to see what made her different than all the other girls, but what made Michaela and her similar. Like Michaela, Miriam had lost a parent, her father, when she was very young, leaving her mother to raise both her and her older brother, Robert. Through this similar situation, the two girls managed to form an understanding friendship, the kind born out of belonging and content.

Miriam loved Michaela's quirky ways, her distracting thought process, and enthusiasm. She like that Michaela had dreams. It seemed like when she was with Michaela, she could travel to another world, to another time, where the two of them could be anything they wanted. Michaela 

loved Miriam for simply accepting her. When they were together, Michaela didn't feel judged, or different. She was who she was and nothing more.

Girlish laughter rolled underneath the blankets of the self-made fort and swept out the door. Michaela could feel her cheeks ache from smiling so much and Miriam was struggling to catch her breath, holding her sides.

"The tea is really good." Michaela said taking another sip.

"Mother says that if you add a bit of honey it gets really sweet. I keep wanting to try it, but I forget."

"Ooo that does sound good." Michaela said, turning her attention to the worn china doll in her lap. Reaching for a sandwich, she held the bread to her dolly's lips and waited for a bit, as if her darling was actually eating before popping the entire sandwich in her mouth. Michaela looked up to find, Miriam's big eyes fixated on her face. Michaela blushed.

"Sorry. I forgot." Michaela said through a full mouth.

"I'm just glad mother wasn't here. She spends all her time telling me to take smaller bits I don't know what she'd say if I ate the whole sandwich at once!"

Swallowing stiffly Michaela blushed and lowered her eyes back down to her doll. She brushed the crumbs off from around the china mouth before cradling the doll like a baby in her arms.

"It's time for your nap Rosa. You be a good girl and go to sleep." Leaning over, Michaela dumped the doll unceremoniously into the crib sitting halfway out of the fort.

"Are you going to have a party for Marjorie's birthday this year?" Miriam asked out of the blue, taking a sip of tea before offering the newly emptied cup to a handkerchief doll 'sitting' next to her.

"No."

"But you said last year's was so much fun." Michaela looked at her friend before wrinkling her nose.

"Marjorie doesn't want to come home this year. She wants to go to New York with one of her friends at school."

"Oh."

"I don't even see why. I mean isn't the best part of your birthday being home with your family and opening presents and eating cake?"

"Wouldn't she do that with her friend?"

"But she hardly ever gets to come home anyway. Why spend her only chance at coming home before Christmas in New York?" Miriam looked at Michaela, unsure of what to say.

"I'm sorry."

Michaela sighed. She hadn't intended to get so worked up, but the truth was that the fact Marjorie wasn't coming home bothered her and she wasn't sure why. To her, the little house on Mount Vernon Street was safety and happiness. It was where Father and his books were. It was where Mother's picture sat on the edge of his desk, forever smiling at her. Michaela didn't understand why anyone wouldn't want to come home.

"It's alright, Miriam. I didn't mean to get so upset."

"Well, that's good." Miriam smiled slyly, looking up at her friend through her lashes. "Because I was worried you wouldn't want to play the next game."

"Which is?"

Miriam sat back on her haunches, adjusting her feet underneath her body so she could jump up easily. She smiled through squinted eyes before launching herself across the makeshift table and 

hitting Michaela in the arm. "Your it!" she cried but before Michaela even registered what was happening Miriam was on her feet and on her way out the door.

"Ah! No!" Michaela screamed in frustration as she struggled to her feet as well. She laughed aloud as she scrambled over Miriam's bed, not taking the time to go around, and ran out the door.

Both girls hit the stairs going full speed. Although Miriam was a good deal in front, she knew that Michaela was much faster and had no problem with jumping furniture and scrambling over the sofas. Miriam ran down the stairs and, grabbing the railing for leverage, made a complete 360, heading out the back door. Michaela, however, made it to the fourth step and hurled herself over the railing, landing on both her feet with a thud.

"I'm gonna catch you, Ria!" She cried.

"Not if I get to base first!" Miriam turned and yelled over her shoulder, smiling at Michaela. She wasn't watching where she was going. If she had been she would have seen her brother step out of the parlor to see what all the commotion was about. If she had been watching she might have stopped in time, but as it was, she collided with her brother full on before falling backwards and landing on her backside.

"Oh, are you ok?" Michaela asked as she reached her friend.

"I'm fine. What are you doing standing there Robert?"

"I came out here to see what all the fuss was about. It sounded like a herd of elephants were coming through the front foyer."

"Well, you should have moved, when you saw Miriam. She could have been hurt." Michaela scowled at the older boy as she helped his sister up. Robert merely crossed him arms across his chest.

"She should have been watching where she was going." Michaela immediately keyed into the boy's domineering stance and took one of her own, squaring her shoulders and propping her hands on her hips.

Robert Hathwell was six years older than his sister and her friend and found the two little girls an almost constant annoyance. Miriam was always whining about something. Her hair ribbon had blown away or she broke the arm off her favorite dolly. She was always bothering him with questions while he was trying to study his books or when he and his own friends were sitting in the parlor, but at least when Miriam was alone, she was quiet. Michaela was a different story.

When Robert's sister and Michaela got together, everything changed. The girls ran, jumped, and played. They were loud, and Michaela rarely backed down when Robert told them they were being a nuisance. "Actually, I believe it is you who is bothering us, Robert," she had said on 

more than one occasion. Each time he saw her, she had gotten Miriam into yet another fix and always seemed to find a way to bother him, without physically having anything to do with him.

"But if she wasn't watching and you were, you should have gotten out of the way." Michaela repeated, carefully enunciating her words. Robert felt his ear redden.

"What were you two doing anyway?"

"Well… we… um." Miriam started, picking at her skirt and threading the material through her fingers. Michaela took over, lifting her chin and setting her jaw.

"We were playing tag." Robert laughed.

"Tag? You were playing tag?"

"Hey what's going on out here?" Another boy stepped out of the parlor and stared at the group confused. Robert reached out and threw an arm around his friend's shoulder as he calmed himself. "Nothing, they were just playing some baby game."

"It is not a baby game!" Michaela exclaimed stomping her foot as she glanced between Robert and his friend, David. "It's just tag."

"Sounds like a baby game to me. Don't it to you, David?" Robert asked, slapping his friend on the back.

David Lewis just stood there with his lips curled up into a tight smile, an infuriating smile if you asked Michaela. His dark green eyes sparkled as he considered the little girls standing before them. Miriam looked as prim and proper as ever with her dark curls trailing neatly down her back. Her cheeks were flushed slightly as she struggled to smooth the wrinkles out of her dainty dress. Michaela, on the other hand, was a sight to be seen. Her board straight caramel hair was pulling out of her braids and frizzed around her face. Her cheeks were red and she was out of breath. Her dress was wrinkled beyond measure, but she didn't seem to care. David chuckled. "Tag, huh?" Michaela eye darkened at him.

"We are not babies, thank you very much. In fact Father is taking me to the ballet Friday night." Michaela beamed at this fact as she waited for Robert to consume the information she had just given him, but his answer still wasn't satisfying to her.

"Oh, well far be it for me to object to your father taking you to the ballet. You must be quite the lady then, Miss Quinn." Robert chided and then bowed mockingly. Michaela simply rolled her eyes.

"Oh, please." She turned and grabbed Miriam's hand before turning for the back door. "Come on, Ria. We'll retire to the out of doors." Michaela said a little too dramatically before storming past Robert and David. She could still hear the boys laughing at them, at her, as she stepped 

outside. Brushing off the slight humiliation, Michaela merely rolled her eyes before turning and shutting the door firmly behind her.

* * *

"Do re mi…" Marjorie sang quietly as she hunched over the piano, hoping everyone was outside for the afternoon. She hated it when she knew people could hear her as she went over her lessons for the day. She stopped for a moment and looked left and right; making sure that no one else was in earshot. Satisfied at what she saw, Marjorie took a deep breath before starting over, singing the notes of the scale as she watched her fingers depress the white ivory keys. Her voice was soft and breathy and seemed to wisp away into nothing as soon as the sounds left her mouth.

The back parlor of Ms. Peabody's Ladies School in Hartford was just as elegant as everything else in the building. The school, quite the attraction for wealthy families of New England to send their daughters too, was the epitome of the elegant lifestyle in which each student hope to marry into. All of the public rooms downstairs were equipped with tall, twenty-foot ceilings with the assortment of statues and oil paintings gracing the walls. The finest furniture sat scatter throughout, eager to provide an area of conversation to its young ladies, and the walls and windows were lined with elaborate tapestries and silks. To most, the elegance of the hand sculpted molding on the ceiling and doors and the painted tile flooring in the foyer would be enough to take anyone's breath away, but not the young ladies that went to school at Ms. Peabody's. They were used to grandeur such as this. It is what they grew up in, and so they expected it. The choppy sounds of the piano notes floated one by one through the downstairs 

parlors contrasting sharply with the smooth rounded curves and graceful edges with its severe angles and harsh volume.

Marjorie sighed, as she shuffled the papers on her piano, pulling a copy of _Fur Elise_ to the front. She sat for just a moment, gently touching each key and imagining what it would sound like as she struck each note before beginning. It was such a beautiful song, and the notes simply sang in her head, but somehow the translation failed between what she heard in her head and what her fingers played. Setting her fingers on the keys, Marjorie made her first attempt.

_Di di Di di Di da… Da …da… Dum. Ba… da… da.. dum. Ba…da… da… dwa._ The sour note sang out louder than all the others and made Marjorie cringe. She sat up a little straighter and searched for the offending note she got incorrect. _Dum dum dum_, she pounded on the note before starting over.

_Di di Di di Di da Da … da… Dum. Ba da da dwa. _

Again, Marjorie jumped before scowling. How could she mess up on the exact same note twice in a row? She pounded now at the correct note before adding the first three tones before that, and attempted once again.

_Di di Di di Di DU!_

"Arg!" Marjorie grunted as she slammed the lid on the keys. There just wasn't any use. She was awful with piano just like everything else.

"Don't give up on it. It's sounding better." The soft, pleasant voice floated in from the entrance to the parlor and Marjorie immediately knew it was Sarah. _On no, how long has she been listening? _Marjorie was rather embarrassed. Yes, she wasn't good at piano. That was hard enough to swallow as it was, but to have Sarah know just how bad she was. That was mortifying. Sarah was the best in the class! "It's sounding better." Sarah whispered making her way over to the little piano.

"No it doesn't. It's awful."

"Well perhaps there's a trick you can do." Sarah took the sheet music from the piano stand and nudged Marjorie so she could sit down. Marjorie fell silent as she watched her friend examine the music, taking in the symbols and words and formulating the perfect sounds in her head that would indeed turn into perfect sounds when she played it. Sarah lightly placed her hand on the keys and gently moved her fingers in motion with the notes before sitting up. "Ok, so here's what I suggest. This is the note you're having problems with and it seems like it's because your fingers are getting knotted because you keep hitting this note, so use a different finger at the D to make the movement more natural." Taking a pencil, Sarah hastily scribbled numbers above the notes for fingering reference. "See if that doesn't help."

"Sarah, I don't feel like playing anymore."

"Oh come on. I'll even play with you." She smiled over to Marjorie before adding, "Besides, if you play I'll tell you a secret." Sarah laughed when she saw the flash of interest brighten Marjorie's eyes. Marjorie loved secrets and she was so good at keeping them. Well, as long as Sarah already knew at least.

"Ok." Resuming their position, the girls counted off.

"That was terrific! Didn't it sound better to you?" Sarah turned.

"It did, but you were playing to. I could never sound that good on my own." Marjorie laughed, trying to cover her own disappointment.

Falling silent for a split second, Sarah had the chance to collect her thoughts. "You know, not every girl has to be good at piano to be a proper lady," she whispered playing with the edge of a key." She heard Marjorie sigh.

"I know, but I just wanted to be able to play well. My mother could play beautifully. She would always play hymns in the summer time and carols at Christmas. Father loved it when she played. His favorite was _Greensleeves_. He loved it when she played that. Sometimes he would even sing with her. I just always wanted to be able to do the same thing."

"But you can sing it, Marjorie. You have such a beautiful voice. You could sing anything you wanted!" Sarah exclaimed excitedly, but it just wasn't the same. Changing the subject, Marjorie turned fully to her friend.

"Never mind that. You said you had a secret!" Sarah laughed. Leave it to Marjorie to remember.

"Momma said that we would get John and the carriage to ourselves for an entire day to do whatever we want. She said we could even shop all day if we wanted to."

"Oh, I'm getting so excited. I can't wait to see New York. You'll have to take me everywhere."

"Oh, don't worry I will, but first lets go outside for a little bit. You've been stuck inside all day and it's so beautiful." Sarah rose from her position grasping at Marjorie's hand as she smiled.

* * *

Michaela crouched deeper into the underbrush, laying flat on her stomach so she could see Miriam's feet.

"Twenty five, twenty six, twenty seven, twenty eight, thirty, ready or not here I come!" Miriam cried, whirling around from her tree. Michaela scooted still further under the brush, trying to cover herself as Miriam set out, eyes scanning for any unusual movement. She checked behind the bushes next to the house, around the corner of the carriage house, and of course, took the opportunity to look up to make sure no one was in the tree. Michaela's tricks hardly ever worked twice. As Miriam made her way around the yard, Michaela scooted closer under the bush carefully calculating her movements, the precise moment that it was safe and then…Michaela darted out from underneath the bush not bothering to look around her, aware of only the tree for which she ran.

"No fair!" Miriam called from behind as she took off in the same direction. Miriam was closer than Michaela had calculated and ran much faster than she had ever anticipated. Before anyone got to the tree, Miriam accidentally slid into her friend, knocking her to the ground and falling on top of her. Michaela giggled as she rolled Miriam off her before rolling over herself.

"Michaela Quinn!" The alien voice startled Michaela causing her to shoot straight up and looking frantically to the door.

"Rebecca what are you doing here?"

"I came to pick you up." Michaela stared at her oldest sister still not sure of why she was there. Wasn't Father supposed to pick them up?

"But I thought…"

"Father was running late in surgery and thought it might be nice for me to pick you up for a while."

"Oh." Michaela couldn't find anything more to say as she looked from Rebecca to Miriam. Something was off, but she wasn't sure what. All she knew was that she never heard Rebecca yell at her and now she was looking at her with wide eyes. It made Michaela uncomfortable.

"Go get your things, sweetheart." Rebecca smiled reassuringly, or at least she tried to. She watched at her youngest sister stood from her place on the ground and batted at the loose hair in her face. The front of her dress was smeared with dirt and there were patches of earth on her cheeks. "Would you try to clean up just a bit? I was hoping that we would be able to go out before we went home." Rebecca asked making sure that her voice was calm and gentle. She felt bad for startling her sister a moment before.

"Ok. I'll be right back." Rebecca nodded. As soon as the little girls had past, she let herself frown once more.

Rebecca loved her sister very much. She, like her father, found the girl's imagination and spirit to be so refreshing. She loved that her sister dreamed big and wasn't afraid of much. Rebecca envied the freedom that Michaela found in the simplest things, but things simply couldn't stay like this much longer. Michaela was ten years old and should be beginning to learn to act a little more presentable in public. She wouldn't be able to climb trees and roll around in the dirt much longer. Soon she would need to go to parties and gatherings, and hopefully, marry.

Rebecca sighed. She didn't want to change Michaela. She didn't want for her sister to lose the things that were so endearing about her, but all of her rough edges needed to be smoothed out. Of course, Rebecca loved her sister, and would support her in anything she chose to do, but she knew that the more unlike other girls Michaela was the harder it would be for her in the long run. Rebecca didn't want her sister to get hurt.

"Ok all ready." Michaela called, coming down the stairs with her china doll tucked carefully under her arm.

"Wow, I must say you clean up rather nicely." Rebecca remarked flicking at Michaela's braid.

"Miriam helped me rebraid it." She explained blushing. "So where are we going?"

"I thought we could go shopping and perhaps get a new dress for the ballet?" Michaela furrowed her eyebrows.

"I thought I would just wear my blue dress."

"Well, you could, but I thought it would be nice for us to get a new dress. Perhaps one that is a little more stylish, a little more grown up?"

"Stylish?" Michaela's voice was flat as her eyebrow raised. Stylish typically meant uncomfortable and itchy.

"Yes, well I thought you might want something to look really nice when Father took you out."

"I do, but I just thought my blue dress would be alright. I mean he always says it's beautiful when I wear it." Rebecca sighed. She didn't want to push Michaela into doing something she didn't want to do. She had just hoped to have maybe taken the opportunity to give her sister a little guidance.

"Alright then. We don't have to go." Michaela instantly picked up on the disappointment in Rebecca's voice and felt guilty. It wasn't often that she and her sister got to spend time together, she didn't want her sister to be sad. No, she really didn't want to go shopping. In fact, she hated shopping, but she could put up with it if Rebecca really wanted to go, and maybe she was right. Maybe it would be fun for Father to see her in a new dress. After all, she did want to make him proud.

"No, Rebecca let's go. Maybe you're right, I could use a new dress." Michaela watched as a smile spread across Rebecca's face and couldn't help but smile herself. Reaching for her sister's hand, she made her way to the door. "So did you have a color in mind?"

"I thought you would look beautiful in something green."

"Ooo, I think green would be lovely."

_Well, here's three. Sorry it took so long, but I hope the wait was worth it. Opinions anyone?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The cool November breeze swirled through the park, picking at the brown and orange leaves and dancing them across the ground. The pine trees bent slightly under the gentle pressure as needles dropped from the branches, unleashing a deep evergreen smell to float along the breeze.

Two girls bundled in their fall coats walked through the little park, leaves crunching under their footsteps. The wind seemed to dance around them, playing with wisps of hair and tugging at the edges of their dress before scurrying away unseen.

"Isn't it a beautiful day?" Sarah asked, taking a deep breath and reveling in the crisp scent of the pines.

"It's alright, but it's a little cold." Marjorie answered, wiping at her watering eyes. Sarah turned to her friend and frowned.

"I'm sorry. Do you want to go inside?"

"No, not at all, the sun is nice and I'll warm up soon." Marjorie tugged her coat around her more and forced a smile against her shivering chin.

The two girls walked in silence, Sarah occasionally bending and picking up a particularly brown leave. She watched intently as she crumpled the object in her hand, disintegrating it into dust before allowing it to blow away.

"I simply love the fall. In New York, there is this beautiful park not too far from home. It has the most beautiful tree that turns all sorts of colors. When we were little, my brother and I used to play in the leaves. We would pile them up and then jump in." Sarah said, lost in her own thoughts. She giggled. "Alex still likes that game, but he's far too big to play in them now. He still tries to get me to go with him, though." Marjorie smiled.

"There's a park like that in Boston. It has a beautiful lake in it and you can rent a boat to take out for the day. Sometimes when you pass, you'll see a girl and her beau sitting on the lake just talking. Sometimes when they laugh, you can hear them all the way through the park. Rebecca always said that you could tell when a girl's in love by the way she laughs."

"How so?"

"Well, according to Rebecca when a maiden laughs, truly laughs, it's not at all dainty and quiet like Mrs. Peabody says. Rebecca says that it's hearty and deep and fills the room. She says that when you hear it you can't help but smile yourself because it's the most beautiful thing you've ever heard."

"Wow." Sarah whispered closing her eyes for a moment. She could only imagine what it would be like to be in love, truly in love. There wouldn't be any cares in the world, just happiness. The shear thought of it sent a chill up Sarah's spine. _One day_, she thought before turning to her friend. "What do you think?" Marjorie shrugged.

"I suppose it's true, but I think you have laugh like that and not be in love."

"Really?"

"Of course, it's different for everybody. I don't believe that getting married so that I could wait on a man hand and foot would make me laugh like that. It might make me gag though!" Marjorie laughed as she nudged Sarah in the shoulder.

"All right, then. What do you think would make you laugh like that?"

"Um, I think traveling would make me laugh like that. You know when I get to visit new places and meet new people. I bet there are some interesting people out there somewhere."

"Yes, but none of them are at Ms. Peabody's. Everyone at school is dreadfully boring." Sarah scoffed hoping up to dance on the curb before jumping back down.

"Isn't that what Ms. Peabody teaches us to be to catch a husband? She says we must agree with everything the man says." Marjorie asked quietly.

"I never thought about it like that before. I think I always assumed that when I fell in love I wouldn't mind doing those things for my husband."

"But wouldn't you want to do more?" Marjorie asked lifting her head in alarm. She looked at Sarah with wide eyes and watched as her friend blushed and smile.

"Like what Marjorie?"

"I don't know. Like being a concert pianist!" Sarah laughed at the thought, completely unaware to Marjorie's serious question. "Haven't you ever thought of it?"

"Honestly I haven't. I actually want to fall in love and get married. I want tons of children. Oh, haven't you ever imagined what it would be like to be a mother?" Sarah turned to her classmate, cheeks rosy and lips smiling. Her dainty gloved hands clasped to her chest as she waited Marjorie's answer.

"No, I haven't because I'm not planning on being a mother." _Being a mother will get you killed_.

"What will you be then? A concert pianist?" Sarah joked lightly, hoping to make Marjorie laugh. She was successful.

"Heavens no!" Marjorie scoffed, as she giggled. "Not unless I want to have to pay my audience to stay. I would, however, like to travel."

"To where?"

"Anywhere, but I've always wanted to go out west."

"Oh, you'll go out there and meet some dashing adventure and never have time to come and visit those of us living the mundane life again."

"Sarah!" Marjorie exclaimed hitting her friend on the shoulder. "I'll do no such thing."

Sarah laughed. "Your right. You'll always come home to tell my children of all their Auntie Marjorie's adventures." Marjorie smiled at the thought of having a place to come home to, a place to belong with Sarah and her family.

As the wind continued to whirl around them, Marjorie nudged Sarah, threading her arm through her friends' as they continued to walk along together. Suddenly the sound of bells chimed through the air.

"It sounds as St. Peter's Academy is out." Sarah commented as the two girls came to a large gothic building covered with ivy. The heavy _ding_ and _dong_ emanated through the air, calling the end of the school day to the happy boys that began to pour from the front door, whooping and yelling with excitement. There were boys from all ages, ten through eighteen attending the academy and they all shared the same enthusiasm. Some boys were running down the street, others were grasping hands as they past each other.

"Look at those two, Marjorie." Sarah whispered nodding to two older boys who were now walking through the doors. One was tall and with clean cut blonde hair and broad shoulders. His companion was a little shorter with dark hair a little longer that curled about his ears, as was the popular style.

"I must say the dark headed one is rather handsome." Marjorie whispered smiling a little and leaning against a tree as she and Sarah continued to watch at the boys. Then, the blonde boy happened to notice them. Stopping in his tracks, he jutted his chin out in the direction of the girls, alerting his pal to their presence before lifting his hand to wave cheerfully.

Marjorie felt her cheeks grow hot as she watched the boys waving at them with a smirk on their faces. She felt her heart beat in her chest as she reached for Sarah's hand. "I think it's time for us to go now." Hastily, Marjorie headed away from the boys, pulling Sarah behind her. She never even stopped to look back.

* * *

… _Michaela continues to grow by leaps and bounds. You'd hardly recognize her if you were to see her, Meg. She's fiery and energetic and gives most of the boys a run for their money. I know I'll never have to worry for her, not as I did the others. She is so very beautiful, but seems to be _

_oblivious to it all. Her eyes are continuously focused on the road she wants to travel. I suppose this is both a blessing and a curse, but I'm certain that she is to do wonderful things. _

_I am pleased to her that all is well in Virginia. I'm glad that the fall harvest has come in on time and was profitable. Henry had a lot of work, but I'm glad he managed. It won't be long now before he'll be having a little help. Tell them all I said hello. _

_All my love,_

_Your brother,_

_Joseph Quinn._

Joseph sat back from his desk and absent-mindedly wiped the ink stain off his middle finger with his handkerchief. He looked back over the letter, making note of all he had said. Trying to decide if there was anything he had left out. He couldn't think of anything.

Lifting the paper into the air, Joseph waved it from side to side until he was certain the ink had dried before folding it and tucking it neatly into the envelope. Joseph addressed the outside before laying the paper on the corner of the desk. He's fingers lay on the outside of the envelope, running over the smooth surface and pressing at the corners distractedly.

Ever since that fateful day five years ago, Joseph had taken extra means to stay in close confidence with his sister. Never would he be able to forget those hours spent at her house on the 

morning of the funeral, agonizing over what to do, all the while she waited patiently to support him in whatever he decided. He even remembered her last words to him before he left.

"_If there is ever anything you need from me, never be afraid to ask me. I will do anything for you and those girls." _He could still hear her husky voice, speaking the words as if it were yesterday. Joseph knew that he would forever be grateful to his sister.

Still fingering the edge of the envelope, Joseph's eyes shifted as he allowed his hand to trail a smooth line from the edge of the envelope to the base of the picture frame that sat directly behind it. His fingers ran along the edge of the hard wood up and around the small print. Joseph allowed his eyes to examine every inch of the picture, the frame, the tall, slender figure standing erect, the flowing ruffles of the gown that draped to the floor and scattered in all directions. He examined it all, taking it all to heart, except for her face. It was a moment of torture for him, the desire to see her face once more, and denying himself that same right. Each time he saw her, it still took his breath away. It was a moment to be rewarded, to be cherished. He would permit himself that luxury last.

Picking the frame off the desk, Joseph leaned back in his chair comfortably examining his beloved's face. Her skin was white and flawless. Her bright mismatched eyes turned to drab grey in the photograph. She had a long, slender nose and her lips were full and relaxed, hinting to the trace of the crooked grin that first made him fall in love with her. Her beautiful long, flowing hair was swept up and back, falling about her ears in little ringlets. Elizabeth was beautiful, was, and still is.

Joseph couldn't help but allow his mind to wander. It wandered over the past few years; especially the very first year. That first Christmas, New Years, birthday, and anniversary they had all been difficult in their own way, but they made it through. Now, he hardly could believe that it was five years ago. It felt as if it had been only yesterday, and yet it seemed as though it had been a lifetime ago.

Smiling, Joseph traced the outline of her face. "You'd be so proud of them, Elizabeth. Michaela is looking more like you every day." Joseph was so deep in thought, that he didn't hear the front door open, or know that anyone enter the room, not until he found himself staring into the same mismatched eyes he had been dreaming of only moments before.

"Mike!" Joseph exclaimed, his usually jolly smile spreading across his face, erasing all previous thoughts he had. Joseph rolled back from his desk and threw his arms open, cuing Michaela to come jaunting around the desk from where she stood. She threw her arms around his neck and allowed him to engulf her in his embrace, giggling as he swung her from side to side. "Did you have fun at Miriam's today?"

"Oh, we did. We had a tea party with real tea and sandwiches and danishes."

"Sounds like you had a busy day. I suppose you won't want dinner then!"

"Uh huh." Michaela shook her head vigorously, her braid swinging from side to side. "Tonight is spaghetti night." Michaela giggled.

"Silly me how could I forget? No matter how much my Mike eats she always has room for spaghetti." He said pulling her into another embrace as he gave her a kiss on the side of her head before letting her go. Smiling, he looked up to see that Rebecca was still standing in the doorway, watching their exchange. She looked troubled. "How about, you go upstairs and get washed up. I'll call you for dinner, and don't forget about the rest of your day. I want to know how school went." He tapped her on the side of the nose before turning her loose to run up the stairs.

"She simply adores you, Father." Rebecca said once she was sure Michaela was up the stairs. She stepped into the room, taking each step deliberately before sitting in the chair across from him.

"And I her." Joseph whispered, smiling as he rested his chin on his folded hands. He watched Rebecca only for a moment before he was aware that she would not speak her mind. He would have to do that for her. "What are you thinking, Rebecca?" Rebecca took a deep breath. She opened her mouth to speak before shutting it again, trying to decide what she was going to say before she said it. She didn't want this coming out wrong. Staring back at her father, she carefully calculated her words, deciding where to start first.

"You know I love Michaela. I love her energy and how she seems to walk with sunbeams surrounding her. She brightens the room."

The proud father chuckled. "She does that, doesn't she?"

"Yes, but Father she can't go on like this much longer." Rebecca watched as her father's eyes darkened a little. His shoulder's stiffened as he dropped his hands from desk.

"I'm not sure I understand what you're saying."

"She's too wild. She runs and jumps and rolls on the ground. When I made it to the Hathwell's this afternoon her dress was smeared with dirt and her hair was wild and loose. It looked like she hadn't groomed herself for weeks."

"That's what makes Mike, Mike, Rebecca. I thought you understood that. She has that spirit and vitality. That's one of the things that I love about her so."

"Oh Father don't misunderstand me. I do love those qualities in her. It's so refreshing, and yes, she's only ten, but soon she'll be a young woman. It simply isn't presentable to run around the way she does as a young woman. Things need to change."

"I'm not sure I see the importance of this issue." Joseph shrugged. Yes, his daughter was free and passionate, why hinder that? It would only be denying her, the life she longed for.

Rebecca heaved a sigh, wondering if she had the never to say what she knew needed to be pointed out. "She isn't a boy, Father. There is a different set of rules she must go buy in order to fit into society."

Joseph laughed. "Rebecca's your sister's main aspiration of life is to become a doctor. She isn't going to fit into society no matter what she does."

"But that may change! I know she wants to be a doctor, but there is a good chance that that may never happen."

"She can do anything is she puts her mind to it."

"But what if she decides that she doesn't want that life? What if she does want to marry and have children? It may be too late to redeem herself, to learn the things she must in order to survive in Boston society." Joseph sat back. Honestly, he had never thought of this before. Ever since he could remember, Michaela had expressed her desire to become a doctor. Was it possible she would change her mind, that she wouldn't know what she was really giving up for her childhood dream? The thought bothered him. Solemnly, Joseph nodded his head, showing his understanding of what Rebecca was trying to tell him.

"I'll speak with her." He whispered rising from his seat. Rebecca followed his movements.

"I love her, Father. I really do. I just don't want her to be hurt."

"I know you do. She's lucky to have such a sister as you." Joseph forced a smile, not wanting to show his eldest what her words meant to him. Offering his arm, he guided her to the door. "You're welcome to stay for dinner." He offered knowing that she was unable to take the invitation.

"I mustn't, I need to get home to the boys. They'll be getting fussy soon."

"That's understandable. You tell my grandsons hello for me."

"I will if you'll tell Michaela I had a wonderful time with her this afternoon." Rebecca smiled before moving to kiss her father on the cheek. "I'll see you soon."

* * *

Michaela sat in the window seat in her room, staring out the window with a book opened in her lap. Her body may have sat in the present but her mind was millions of miles away digesting the passage she had just read and enjoying the new ideals it present. Michaela often times did this as she read. She'd loose herself in a daydream, what was going to be her story? Would she live a life exciting enough to write about like the heroine in her storybooks? Sometimes the world seemed big and new that she could barely contain her excitement. She couldn't wait to discover every inch of what life had to offer her. Michaela was sat quietly, leaning her head against the cool window, wondering many of these things when she was disturbed by a knock at the door.

"Sometimes I think you daydream more than you actually read." Michaela smiled as her father's voice drifted into the room.

"You just always catch me at the wrong time." She answered smiling. "Oh, Rebecca took me shopping today! I got the most beautiful dress, but you have to wait until the ballet before you can see it."

"Oh I do, do I?" Joseph chuckled, his eyes wandering over to her armoire. "Couldn't I just go through your dresses now?" his hand reached for the door to her clothes, but before he could open anything, Michaela launched herself across the room and wrapped arms around his, pulling him away with her body weight. "What's this?" Joseph laughed, bending down to tickle his daughter who collapsed to the floor in a fit of giggles under his fingers.

"Father! Father!" She cried over and over make Joseph laugh even more. When he finally stopped, Joseph swooped his daughter into his arms and sat her on the edge of her bed. She was still giggling when he knelt by her side. Pushing her hair from her eyes, she smiled at him and waited.

"Mike, there's something I want to talk to you about."

"What?" Michaela's smile dropped on her Father's seriousness.

Joseph sighed. "It's been called to my attention, that you're behavior isn't necessarily the most ladylike."

"Oh," Michaela replied, losing all interest in this conversation. "Is that all?"

"Mike, I believe this is a little more serious than what you want to make it out to be."

"I don't see why!" She exclaimed climbing on her knees in order to see him better. "I'm only ten. I'm supposed to have fun aren't I."

"Well, yes, but you're getting to the age where you must be more cautious. There are rules on how young ladies should present themselves."

" I guess I just don't care." Michaela shrugged. "I'm going to be a doctor one of these day, I don't think it matters if I run in my backyard and slide down the banister."

"Are you going to slide down the banister at the hospital then?" Joseph joked, smiling as he heard Mike giggle.

"Don't be silly, Father. I'll be better then. There are just so many rules!" Michaela laid over on the bed. "I can't remember them all. Curtsy here, use this fork, no running, why should I learn all the rules about being ladylike when I'm going to be a doctor. It doesn't even count." Joseph 

smiled at her admission. Perhaps Rebecca was wrong. Maybe Michaela's dreams wouldn't change.

"Well, all those rules are good to know, and you'll learn them in time. For now, just try to restrict the running and jumping for here at home, hum?" Michaela nodded.

"I'll do my best."

"Good," Joseph smiled and held out his arm to her "Now, what do you say we get some spaghetti?"

Michaela smiled. She was certain that she could do better, if her father wanted her too. After all, he still had fun and he was a doctor, and he never said she couldn't run and jump and still play tag, she just had to be more careful. She had to make sure that she only did those things at home. That wouldn't be too hard, would it? Yes, Michaela could be more ladylike, and it all started with the ballet. She would be like all the other ladies at the theater, and she would make her father proud.

Nodding, Michaela scooted off the side of the bed. "Yes, let's have dinner now." She nodded, eyeing her father's properly outstretched arm and smiling slyly. "First one down's a rotten egg!" She yelled and darted for the door, well aware that her father's laughter as he chased after her.

_

* * *

_

_Yay, chapter 4! What do you think?_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Mary Hathwell sat back in her wingback chair as she watched her housemaid, Nancy, serve tea to each of her guests. She smiled with satisfaction. The monthly tea of the Boston Ladies League was going beautifully. Since the meeting had started nearly half an hour ago, she had received a compliment on her new cherry end tables, the hand painted vase over the fireplace, the tapestry hanging over the piano, and her new dress. The meeting had been a complete success and they hadn't even discussed business yet.

"Oh, do try the chocolate scone. It's perfectly decadent." Mary bubbled, bouncing her hefty frame happily in the chair.

"Why Mary Hathwell, you sly thing, How are we ever to decide what pastry to enjoy? There are so many!" Julia Wilkerson laughed, eyes scanning greedily over the full serving tray.

Julia was the newest member of the Boston Ladies League. Having been married only nine months to one of Boston's most wealthy lawyers, Jason Wilkerson, she still retained the light hearted and girlish qualities of a belle, but matrimony as well as motherhood (Wilkerson had a ten-year-old daughter from his first marriage) was beginning to teach its lessons. Her youthful joy was beginning to fade as it was replaced with respectful solemnity. Although she still did slip every once in a while, most of the ladies simply ignored these faults for the time being, choosing to instead discuss them in depth outside of Julia's presence.

"Oh Julia, really if you'd seen what the original menu was. I was afraid we wouldn't have enough choices." Mary laughed, her plump cheeks turning a bright red.

"Well, it looks wonderful, Mary." Martha Sinclair interjected, taking a large scone from the tray and nibbling on the corner.

"Oh it certainly does!" Tabitha Davis sang, clasping her hand to her chest. Mary Hathwell's blush deepened.

"Now, now ladies enough of your compliments. Let's get to business." Mary once again glanced around the room.

Martha Sinclair, her face etched with experience and wisdom, cleared her throat. "The date is set for the spring flower show." She stated flatly, as she dropped a cube of sugar in her tea before taking a sip.

"Oh, that's wonderful. One more thing to check of the list! Isn't it fabulous how everything is coming together?" Mary laughed.

"Well, I'm certainly glad it's finished. I was worried we wouldn't be able to get the Braxton Hotel for the show." Julia exclaimed.

"Never fear dear." Tabitha reached over and patted the young woman on the hand. "It isn't so difficult to book the hotel when your husband owns the construction company that built it." Tabitha sighed, sending a hidden look over to Martha, who was beaming with pleasure. Yes, it wasn't as difficult as many thought it may be.

"Well, that is certainly a relief. What's there to do next?"

"Well, the list here says…" Mary picked up the leather bound book sitting next to her on the end table and ran her eyes over the paper. "We each begin to notify all the ladies for their entries."

"I believe we've already divvied up the list, Mary." Martha said sitting back and taking another sip of tea. "So we all know what we're doing next, enough with business for the day, on to something more interesting."

"Oh, Tabitha how is your Jenna's coming out developing?" Julia asked, turning to the older woman sitting on her right.

Tabitha smiled. "Oh you should see the invitations we picked for her party. They're perfect. They have the most exquisite embossed trim along the edge."

"Oh I remember my coming out." Julia said, her mind wandering to a far off place. "It was so exciting, picking a dress and invitations, and then getting to settle on a menu. What a wonderful time in every young lady's life. I'm glad Jenna is enjoying it."

"Well, she certainly is. She's finalized her list. I must say that there is a simply a passel of young ladies coming out this year."

"Oh, really? Who?" Martha asked. It had been years since her daughters had had their coming out, but she was still very much in the know of the young ladies of the premier society.

"Well, let's see there's Jenna, Amelia Dawson, Janet Hubbard, Amy Price, Kathleen Howe, and Jane Emerson." As Tabitha listed each of the young ladies, Martha nodded in accordance inserting her knowledge of each young girl.

"Ah, Janet, fine young lady. Quite the catch. Oh and Amy. She'll make someone a good wife. I must say Kathleen's reputation precedes her. She'll have difficulties this season." She mumbled in accordance to each young lady. However, when Tabitha was through, Martha was left frowning. "Isn't Marjorie Quinn to come out this season?"

"Not yet, Martha. Marjorie is just a year younger than my Robert. I'm sure we'll being hearing from her next season."

"Somehow I highly doubt that." Tabitha spoke hastily under her breath.

"What makes you say that?" Julia sat her cup on the service tray before turning her attention fully to her friend.

"Well, it's not that Joseph Quinn has particularly followed the proprietary standards for raising those girls. I imagine Marjorie's coming out will be just another thing to go by the wayside."

"Oh no…" Julia protested, but was cut off by Martha.

"She's right. His first mistake was keeping those girls himself. A single man cannot be a proper father to any girl. A young lady needs instruction and example. There is no one to teach these young ladies. Now, perhaps he made a better decision with Marjorie. That school was the best thing that happened to her, but that youngest one is just a mess."

Mary's ears perked as she heard Joseph being brought into the conversation and nodded. "It's true. That Michaela runs wild I tell you. I came home the other day and she and my Miriam were running through the house. The Quinn girl's dress was dirtied and her hair was frayed. It looked as though she went rabid!"

Tabitha scoffed. "He best get a hold of her soon before she destroys all chances of her making a match in Boston."

"I just don't understand. I've often offered to help him with Michaela, to smooth out her edges." Mary sighed dreamily.

"And he always had Rebecca. She could be a wonderful asset to him if only he'd allow her to help."

Martha sighed. "I'm afraid he'll do no such thing. All the Quinn's are terribly stubborn, won't even accept help from their own. If you ask me it's that stubbornness that is destroying those girls's reputation."

"Oh, I don't think it's that serious quite yet. Is it?" Julia asked meekly feeling quite uncomfortable in the situation.

"Well, not yet, but it's heading there if someone doesn't intervene soon." Martha scoffed, furrowing her brow. Mary sighed, searching for something to say, anything. Turning back to Tabitha, Mary smiled sweetly.

"Has Jenna found her dress yet?"

* * *

Joseph pensively stood in front of a barren white door. His eyes were straining in the low light of the hallway to read the chart he was holding in his hand. If someone had passed at that point in time, one might have thought that he had aged ten years. Wrinkles etched around his eyes, his mouth, and forehead, showing their concern for what he was reading. As he made his final notes, 

Joseph subconsciously stroked at his chin, running his fingers over the full beard that adorned his lower face. Making one final note, he snapped the file shut and reached for the door.

"Hello, Mrs. Gilbert. How are you feeling this afternoon?" Joseph's expressive voice filled the room, echoing across the walls. He smiled broadly, the intensity of his earlier expression completely erased from his face as he stared down at an elderly lady lying in the bed before him.

"I'm feeling much better Dr. Quinn."

"Well that's certainly good to hear. Any more upset stomach?"

"Not at all, I've actually been feeling a little hungry. The pain has subsided as well." Joseph smiled as he reached out to cover the woman's hand with his.

"That's what I was hoping to hear. I'll make sure the nurse continues the small doses of laudanum until we're sure everything has surpassed and I'll see if we can't get some broth in here to you."

"Thank you."

"Certainly, let us know if there is anything else you need." Joseph nodded as he reached for the doorknob.

_Eight down and how many to go?_ Joseph thought, allowing his eyes to wander over to the heavy clock hanging on the wall over the doctor's desk_. Five 'til twelve_. Walking over to the desk, Joseph dropped the chart on the corner and smiled at the nurse standing across from him.

"Who's next on my rounds, Maria?" The older, white-headed woman looked up and handed him a chart. Dora Strong is the last one of the morning."

"Thank goodness."

"Oh, and your twelve o'clock is here." Maria said her eyes twinkling with amusement as a secretive smile spread across her face. She watched as the intensity of her boss's expression dropped as he smiled. She'd never quite known anyone like Joseph Quinn.

"Thank you. Would you make sure to tell her that I'll be out shortly?"

"Certainly." Maria nodded professionally as she turned from the desk and headed down the hallway.

Stepping into the waiting room, Maria searched for the familiar face, sitting in the same seat in the corner of the room. "Dr. Quinn if finishing up his rounds this morning, but he should be out as soon as he's done." Although her words were professional, her tone held a fondness, a respect as she bent over the little bench. She watched as the little girl in front of her blushed.

"Thank you Maria. Has he been busy this morning?" Michaela asked swinging her legs back and forth under the chair.

"Not too busy. There aren't any surgeries scheduled for your father today so that's a good thing." Maria answered bluntly and then laughed as she watched the Dr.'s daughter screw her face up disappointedly. "Well for him that is. I'm sorry you got to miss out on the excitement though."

"That's alright, maybe next time." Michaela sighed. It would have been nice to get to see a surgery this morning. That was an event that marked some of her earliest memories of visiting her father at work. Well, that and Maria. There was something warm, almost grandmotherly about her father's nurse and it was always fun to see the older woman. Staring up at the smiling face, Michaela felt a sense of comfort surround her, the way it does when something is very familiar and safe. This had been her life for so long.

Maria sat on the bench next to Michaela and lowered her voice into a whisper. "I do believe that at the last procedure that was performed, Dr. Benton retrieved some specimens. Would you like to see them?"

Michaela's eyes grew wide with wonder. "Can I?" Maria winked and nodded toward the large double doors where she had entered a few minutes before. Eagerly Michaela stood to follow Maria out of the waiting room.

The room where all the specimens were kept was actually rather small, dimly lit with dark wood shelves lining the walls. There was a desk sitting in the middle of the room with various instruments were scattered across the tabletop. Michaela, as if in a trance, walked around the perimeter of the room, gazing longingly at the jars that littered the shelves. Every once in a while, she would stop and stick out a finger, tilting her head to one side as she analyzed what she saw. Some things she could place from pictures she had seen in her father's medical books, but other things looked simply strange. Finally coming to one jar, Michaela stared for quite awhile before turning to the doorway where she knew Maria still stood.

"What's this?"

"Hum," The older woman wandered into the room and peered over her shoulder. "It looks to be a segment of a spinal cord. Can you see the way it seems to fray at the ends?"

"Oh." Michaela whispered her eyes darting over to the life-sized skeleton suspended in the corner of the room. Walking over to it, her eyes narrowed as she examined the vertebras that ran along the back of the skeleton. Reaching out, she felt the texture on all sides before making her observation. "So it runs inside these." Her words weren't a question, but a statement made as she connected two pieces of the puzzle together.

"So I see you somehow bribed Maria into letting you into the specimen room." The deep bass seeped into the room, snapping Michaela out of her thoughts and causing her to look to the door.

"Father!" she cried running toward him and throwing her arms around his neck before backing away. "Maria said that there were new jars in here, and some of them are so neat!" Michaela hoped up and down as she spoke.

"Ah, I see." Joseph smiled, pinching his daughter's cheek before turning his eyes to the room. "So, do you know what everything is?"

"Well there was one over there," Michaela turned to throw her finger in the direction of where Maria still stood. "that I didn't recognize, but Maria said it's a spinal cord."

"And right she was."

"But there was something else over here." Taking her father's hand Michaela lead him over to another set of shelves and pointed to a jar well out of her reach. "I don't remember what that one is."

Maria smiled at the father and daughter, both intent on each other, oblivious to anything else in the world. She had never seen quite anything like the relationship that Joseph and Michaela shared. Yes, Maria knew the story. In fact, she had been there when it happened (she had been Dr. Quinn's nurse nearly twenty years now) but the strength and love found in the little family was much more than she had ever seen before. Most fathers after their wife's death simply sent their children away. They were incapable of caring for their small sons or unable to look at the daughters that looked so much like their mothers, or both. Maria felt privileged to know such a man as Dr. Quinn, to get to see him interact and teach his daughter as she grew under his care. It reminded her that there were always exceptions to the rule.

Stepping out from her corner of the room Maria smiled at the doctor. "You're next appointment is at one thirty, Dr. Have a nice lunch."

Joseph turned his attention toward Maria's direction, specimen jar in hand and nodded. "See you at one," before kneeling down to where Michaela was waiting patiently for him. He began to explain to her what exactly what it was she saw.

* * *

The afternoon sun has just reached directly overhead, sending warming rays down to the people walking leisurely through the Commons. The chilly air, offsetting the sunrays, went sweeping through the trees and dancing across the lake. It was a beautiful afternoon day, one filled with laughter and cheering from the children standing in a corner playing games with one another. Pigeons danced across the sidewalk as they were feed breadcrumbs from a elderly woman's hand. Rowing boats, escorting lovers back and forth across the surface of the lake, slowed to skim underneath the stone bridge. It was the perfect day for an outing, and it seemed as though many had taken the opportunity. Just as one of these boats was to be swallowed under the confines of the rounded stonewalls of the bridge one of the lovely young ladies lifted her eyes from her handsome beau. Throwing her gaze to the sky, she allowed her parasol fall back if only slightly so she could see the white fluffy clouds that rolled through the sky. The young woman sighed as she took it all in, and then her eyes came to rest on a little girl, walking along the stone railing of the bridge and guided by an older, friendly looking man. The young woman in the boat smiled at the adorable little girl and made a slight gesture with her gloved hand. The little girl, standing precariously on the edge smiled brightly, beaming really, from ear to ear, as she waved back.

"Someone you know, Mike?" Michaela heard her father speak from where he was walking casually by her side, guiding her with one hand in hers and another at her back. Michaela shook her head as she gingerly put one-step in front of another, keeping her balance.

"No, but she was pretty." Joseph laughed at her logic, causing Michaela's eye to drop to him.

"What?" she asked irritated, stopping to put her hands on her hips. She hated it when she felt like she was being laughed at. There wasn't anything that embarrassed her more than someone taking her words or opinions lightly simply because she was younger. Father didn't usually do this sort of thing.

"Nothing, my dear. It was nothing." Joseph chose not to speak his delight. There were moments like these that reminded him so much of the beauty of childhood. Only with a child would an adult take the time on a busy day to go walking through the park, looking at the flowers and waving and random 'pretty' stranger. Joseph wanted to store moments like these, keep them in a bottle so that there would be enough to last forever. He wanted to slow time down, keep things as they were, but it was impossible and he knew that one day he would have to accept how it would all come to an end, one day, not today. As they neared the end of the bridge, Joseph moved to grasp Michaela's wait and, lifting her off the railing, placed an adoring kiss to her forehead before he sat her on the ground.

"Have you gotten everything ready for the ballet tomorrow night?" Michaela asked looking up to him.

"What do you mean? Gotten what ready?"

"Father, you got your suit didn't you? What about the tickets?" Michaela watched in horror as her father stopped mid step and stared back at her.

"You mean I was supposed to get a suit?"

"If I got a new dress, then you get a new suit."

"Well, I just thought that I'd let you take all the attention. No one will want to watch me after they see the beautiful young lady I have on my arm." Michaela blushed, but did her best to keep her mind on the conversation at hand. He was not getting away this easily.

"What about the tickets?"

"What tickets?" About as soon as panic gripped her heart, Michaela realized that her father was only joking with her. She could see that little shin in his eyes and the way he bit the inside of his lips to keep himself from smiling. Taking an exasperated breath, she rolled her eyes.

"Father…" Her tone made Joseph laugh and he knew he'd been found out.

"Yes, yes, I've gotten it all taken care of. We've been planning this evening far too long to miss something like that. I know how much your looking forward to this, Mike."

"Good, then I don't have to worry about anything."

They walked together kicking at leaves and chasing the pigeons (well, Michaela at least) until they eventually came to the edge of the park. Standing on the little footpath, they looked at each other and then to the city and back. Both knew what this meant. Their time together was over for now. Joseph must go back to work, and Michaela must return to school before long, but as with most days, Michaela was reluctant to let this special time go.

"Can't we keep walking?" she asked, watching a carriage ride by, hurrying to take its occupants to their next appointment.

"I'm afraid I must go back to the hospital." Michaela frowned and shuffled her feet. "It's a very important thing, you know, taking care of people who need help. Sometime we must do our jobs even when we don't want to, when we'd much rather be doing something else."

"Because other people need you more than I do."

"For now, but when I get home, it'll be just you and me." Joseph bent toward Michaela and tapped her on the end of the nose. "And the next time I'm schedule for surgery on a weekend. I'll most certainly make sure you have a chance to watch." At this, Michaela laughed. Throwing her arms around his neck, she kissed him on the cheek.

"I love you, Father."

"And I you. Now, let's get you back to school, shall we?"

Knowing that once and for all their lunch together was over, father and daughter turned back to the city, the real world. The magic of the Commons fell away behind them as they resigned themselves once again to the dullness of everyday lives. Until tonight, the whisper resounded through each of their memories as they left the park, and Boston embraced them once more.

_Thanks for reading guys!! I can't wait to ready what you think. So the new plan is update every Friday, what do you think?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Oh Michaela, you're going to be the prettiest one at the ballet tonight!" Miriam cried as she twirled her friend's green dress around the room. It was indeed a beautiful dress, with a tight fitting bodice trimmed with lace that flowed out to create a full skirt, the fullest skirt that Michaela owned so far. The folds of the fabric even made an audible swishing sound as Miriam fanned it across the room. The dress was positively decadent.

"Oh please, Ria. You know what some of those ladies look like. I could never be compared to them. They're too far out of my league." Michaela gave her friend a doubtful look, pulling the dress back and putting it back on the armoire.

"Mike, please they don't even stand a chance."

"I'm only ten. No one is going to notice me!"

"Being ten is a good thing. Have you ever notice the sort of ladies that go to the ballet?" Miriam asked sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace in Michaela's room. She leaned over the arm railing and stared at Michaela's lost gaze. "You know those ladies always have the fashionable dress, the perfect shoes, the graceful hair, but they can't see a thing!" Miriam laughed snagging a glass from the table next to the chair and held the bottom of the glass to her eye. As she gazed through the makeshift opera glasses, she wiggled her eyebrows. "Darling Charles, I must say 

that was a beautiful move." Miriam imitated, leaning back as she attempted to glide across the floor to where Michaela now sat on her bed. She spoke with a strangled aristocratic accent, her voice rising over the sound of Michaela's giggles. "What grace, what elegance. I wish I was that age once more, but poor me. I'm so old I'd break a bone and no one would want to watch that, would they? Therefore, I suppose I'll just watch those young ladies dance all the way down there. Oh isn't it remarkable how that one managed to disappear from the stage like that, incredible effect that is. Oh, I'm sorry. She fell off the stage!" With her mocking at an end, Miriam dropped the glass from her eye and doubled over with laughter.

"Miriam!" Michaela screeched as she gasped for breath. Reaching over, she pulled Miriam to sit next to her. "That's so mean!"

"It's the truth, though." Miriam rolled her eyes. "Trust me. Half of those ladies were at my house, yesterday."

"Ohhh," Michaela groaned falling over on the bed. "The Boston Ladies League, so what was on the business list for this month?"

"I don't even know; something about the flower show."

"Oh yes, the flower show. How could I have forgotten? It's my favorite event of the year. I just can't get enough of seeing room after room filled with roses, petunias, and Gerber daisies." Michaela exclaimed dramatically, standing and moving herself over to her dresser.

Gazing in the mirror, Michaela eyed the way her hair pulled from her braid, creating a halo of golden locks that frizzed around her head. She frowned. Her hair was straight as a board, and no matter what she did, she just couldn't get it to stay put. Her hair was always slipping out of its pins or pulling from its braid. She wondered if there was a secret that everyone knew except for her. Whenever Michaela went out, with her father or Miriam all the ladies looked perfect. Their faces never flushed, their hair was never mussed, and their dresses stayed wrinkle free. Michaela wasn't sure how they did it. Quickly unbraiding her own hair, she ran a brush through it before rearranging the locks into a fresh arrangement.

"You've never even been to the flower show, Michaela, even though Mother invites Dr. Quinn every year."

"Yes," Michaela said nodding her head in the mirror. "and thankfully Father always finds something better for us to do that weekend." She giggled lightly, as she watched Miriam through the mirror. Her friend didn't smile.

"It isn't that bad, you know." Miriam whispered, sitting on the edge of Michaela's bed and wrapping her arm around a bedpost.

"Oh, I didn't mean…" Michaela turned from her mirror and stared speechless at her friend. What had she said? She thought they were having such a good time. As the guilt began to mount, 

Michaela felt tears prick at her eyes. "I didn't mean anything bad about the flower show; it's just not what I would enjoy." Michaela came over and stood in front of the bed. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok, but you should know that some of the flowers are really pretty, especially some of Mrs. Sinclair's. Her roses are beautiful, and I do enjoy going to see them."

"I bet you get the same feeling looking at all the pretty flowers that I get when I get to go through the specimen rooms at the hospital." Miriam wiped her nose, trying not to grimace. _That's so gross_.

"Yea, I think it's something like that."

Michaela stood awkwardly, scanning the room, trying to decide what to say next. Her eyes ran across her bed, the china dolls that sat in the corner, the treasure chest that sat against the wall, before finally coming to rest on a book left on her window seat. Her eyes light up as she looked over at her friend. "Would you like for me to tell you the story of the ballet we're going to see?" Michaela smiled as Miriam nodded, her curls falling in front of her face. Michaela moved to grab the book before settling herself on the bed next to her friend, but before she could begin, a small knock tapped on the door.

"Miss Michaela, Miss Miriam, lunchtime." Martha stepped into the room carrying a large silver tray. "You two can eat up here a'so you don't spill all over the nice clean carpet." She said depositing the tray on a table before she turned and looked directly at Michaela. Smoothing out 

the wrinkles in her apron she caught the young girl's gaze and held it intently, reiterating her point cautiously. "Be careful."

"Yes, ma'am." Michaela smiled as she and Miriam hopped from the bed and each took a chair.

They waited until Martha had vacated the room and each began to each lunch before Miriam looked up expectantly. "Tell me your story now."

"It's about this girl named Giselle. She's a peasant girl who falls in love with this peasant boy named Loys. She thinks that they're going to get married and be happy forever and ever, but then she finds out that Loys is actually not a peasant boy. He's very rich and he's engaged to another woman. Giselle is so heartbroken that she actually dies."

Miriam gasped. "How sad!"

"I know. I asked Father is someone could really die just because they were sad, and he said that they could. He said it was called dying of a broken heart."

"Do you think once someone heart breaks it can ever be healed again?" Miriam asked tilting her head to one side. It made since that if someone could die from a broken heart, then it could be fixed, too. Like a skinned knee. After all skinned knees healed quickly, but, then again, no one ever died of skinned knees.

"Of course. If you know what you're doing you can fix just about anything." Michaela said, allowing no room for doubts. After all, her father could fix anything, and she was sure he could fix broken hearts as well. Taking the answer in stride, Miriam nodded and took another bite of her lunch.

"Well is that the end of the story?"

"No that's only half. That night when Loys goes to bed and he is haunted by these things called the wilis. They're the spirit of the women who were betrayed by their beaux and died like Giselle did. The Queen makes Loys dance over and over again, but Giselle stops them and her love for him saves his life. She forgives him for betraying her and they pledge their undying love for one another before Giselle returns to her grave. Loys must live without her for the rest of his life." Michaela solemnly admitted this last fact with hands folded and her eyes down cast.

"Isn't that the saddest thing?"

"Can you imagine what it would be like to love someone and never be able to live with them? It would be so romantic."

"Really?" Miriam looked skeptical. Smiling Michaela leapt from her seat.

"Yes! Can you imagine? You meet at a party, and your drawn to each other from across the room. You want to get married and share the rest of your lives together, but you can't, so you must resign yourself to a dance." Bowing before Miriam's chair, Michaela offered her hand, trying to look like a gentleman, but knowing that she was lacking all the skills needed.

As Miriam took her hand and rose from her seat, Michaela swirled her around the room, attempting to dance the way she saw her brother in laws dance at the New Years Eve party. Together, the two girls swirled about, moving unsteadily from left to right and back. Miriam laughed as Michaela stumbled over her feet and almost fell over completely, and Michaela in turn giggled when Miriam nearly twirled into the bed stand. Moving back and forth across the room, the girls got faster and faster until a loud thud filled the house. Twirling Miriam away from her, Michaela felt her friend fall backwards, pulling her forward and hurling her into the table. Food, dishes, drinks, furniture, and two girls crashed to the floor in one heap.

"Are you ok?" Miriam asked, sitting straight up and looking back to her friend.

"Yea," Michaela grunted as she pulled herself up and then groaned. "Oh no. What a mess!" The overturned table was surrounded with the remains of their lunch. The silver tray was turned completely upside down covering the disaster that lay beneath. Michaela didn't want to touch it. She didn't even want to look at it. Surveying the distance from the mess to the fireplace, she gauged the practicality to pushing it all into the hearth and burning the evidence, not that that would ever work.

Gingerly picking up the silver tray, Michaela groaned even louder. The remains of their tea flowed from the glasses, turning the off white carpeting an amber color. The salad was scattered across the floor and… "No, the chocolate cake." Hearing the hurried footsteps along the stairs, Michaela hung her head in defeat of what was coming.

"Michaela Anne Quinn what have you done now? Good heavens!" Martha stepped into the doorway, hands on hips, her usual stance for when Michaela was in trouble. "I dare say if I told you not to set your hair on fire you'd find a way to do it. How on earth… I have half a mind to make you clean this up yourself. I'd do it to if you didn't have company over." Martha scurried into the room and righted the table, oblivious to the way both Miriam and Michaela back away from the older woman's harsh movements. "I have more things to do with my day than going around cleaning up every mess you managed to concoct."

"We're sorry Martha. We were just dancing and…"

"Doesn't matter anyhow. If you know what's best, you'll relocated yourself out of doors in a mighty quick hurry, a' fore I change my mind about you cleanin'."

Michaela froze, uncertain of what to do. She felt so bad, and Martha was right all they ever did was make more messes, but Michaela didn't want to be more of a burden than she already was. Shifting her gaze from the doorway to Martha, Michaela took a few steps toward the door, knowing Miriam would follow.

Once outside, the girls sat in a daze unsure of what to do. The oppression of their scolding, as little as it was, was enough to cause the fun of the afternoon to die down. Was it right to have any fun when they'd just cause Martha so much more work? Miriam, on the swing, managed a sway back and forth, but that was all. Michaela on the other hand, sat numbly on the lowest branch of the oak tree, picking at the dying leaves. After a few minutes of silence, Miriam was the first once to speak.

"I don't think it would be romantic at all."

"What?"

"To not be able to be with the one you love. I think it would be sad."

Sighing Michaela dropped the leaf she was holding and watched it fluttered to the ground. "I suppose your right." Falling silent once more, Michaela tried to determine whether or not she wanted to ask the question that was vibrating through her head. She picked at the hem of her dress until she heard herself speak. "What kind of family do you want to have?"

"Me?" Miriam looked up, as she swung a little wider now. "I don't know. I want to get married and have lots of babies. What about you?"

Michaela frowned, that was the problem, she didn't know. "I suppose I'd like a family, but I don't know if I can have one."

"Why not."

"Because I want to be a doctor."

"Why does that mean you can't have a family?"

"Father says that I'll have to work extra hard to be a doctor because I'm a girl. I don't think I can be a doctor and be a girl at the same time. So that means my family will be just like it is now, Me and Father."

Miriam listened to her best friend's logic and turned the phrases over in her head. It made sense, but something felt strange. Miriam's mother always told her that a lady's job was to get married and start a family. That's why God made women, but what did it mean if Michaela did something different? What happens if Michaela didn't get married or have babies? That would mean she was being like a boy. Were girls allowed to do that?

* * *

The clock in the foyer struck six o'clock as Joseph stepped out of the water closet and turned back to his room. In his right hand, he carried a damp towel while he batted furiously at his wet hair with his left. Stopping briefly at Michaela's door, he stuck his head in the narrow crack, smiling to find his daughter sitting erect at her vanity while Martha stood over her with various hairpins sticking out of her mouth. As he watched, a lock of Michaela's golden hair fell from the pins and curved to frame her face. Letting out a huff of frustration, Mike reached for the hair and 

held it up, for Martha to take. Impatiently, the young girl waved the hair in the air, bouncing it back and forth, as Martha struggled to pin the hair she was already holding in place.

"Hold ya horses. I'm workin' as fast as me fingers can go." Martha mumbled through the pins, taking the proffered lock from the girl and repining into place. As she did so, another curl tumbled from its pins and Michaela let out a little whimper.

"This isn't working…"

Joseph backed away from the door, grinning at the normal scene. It didn't seem like a true outing without Martha and Michaela fighting over the young one's hair. Eventually they would overcome the pesky strands and Michaela would be left with a beautiful up-do. All good things took time. Joseph couldn't say anything. Her hair had been one of the few things Michaela had actually inherited from him, at least the texture was. Elizabeth's hair had been thick and full of curls. It made for beautiful coiffures and elegant braids. All of their girls had inherited those curls, all except Michaela whose hair had grown to be fine, wispy, and straight as a board, just like his. Once again running his hand through his drying hair, he patted at the soft, straight strands as he mused. Making his way to his chamber, Joseph shut the door behind him with a thump.

Leaning against the door, Joseph surveyed the room. His toilet was laid across the dresser, organized in order of what he would use when, and Harrison, his valet, had laid the freshly pressed suit across the foot of the bed, leaving the newly polished shoes to wait patiently on the floor. Dressing for an evening out was not an unusual affair in the Quinn home.

When Joseph was younger, he detested the theater. It was fanciful story telling in his eyes, an imaginary world created for the sole purpose of entertainment. This imaginary world meant nothing; it was pointless. The real world was all that mattered; everything he knew, all he was good at, medicine, books, riding, existed outside of that land of fiction. When he was in medical school, Joseph all but refused to go to the opera, or the ballet. He thought of better ways to use his weekends, more practical ways to use his time, but all that changed when he began to court Elizabeth. She loved the opera, and often times would ask him to take her. At first, Joseph had resisted, but he had never been able to deny his angel for long, and he soon realized that even though he didn't enjoy the show, he loved to watch the way it made Elizabeth so happy. It was on a night after the ballet, that Joseph had proposed and after they were married, he took his wife to see at least three productions a year, more if she asked.

Five years ago, as Joseph found himself struggling to piece his heart back together. He realized that he missed the theater. He missed having the opportunity to lose himself in that very dream world he had once detested. It seemed that now reality wasn't something that he wanted to dwell in constantly. There was too much pain, too much heartache. He welcomed the opportunity to lose himself for a few hours.

It was almost a year after Elizabeth's death when Joseph decided to take Michaela to the opera for the first time. He had labored over his decision, hoping that he wasn't acting on his selfish desire to remember Elizabeth and what they had shared, as he tried to find the security in their routine once more. Joseph was terribly afraid that Michaela was far too young to enjoy the theater or even understand it, but in the end his desire to share this part of his life, a part of his life that had once belonged to Elizabeth, won out.

It was a cold November night when he and his six-year-old daughter first took their seats in the left wing box of the Colonial Theater. Michaela, much too short to see over the railing from her seat, spent the entire show sitting in his lap eagerly looking over the edge. Before the play had begun, she sat anxiously, swinging her legs and kicking him in the shin on occasion. Would she even be able to sit still? Joseph still wondered if it had all been a mistake, but as the curtain rose and the first of the music began Michaela ceased all movements. She sat, as if in a trance, watching the stage intently, mesmerized by the costumes and songs. Before long, she had snuggled back against her father's chest and sat with her head just close enough to him to be able to whisper in his ear. "What's she saying now?" She would ask, not daring to take her eyes off the woman crying of her heartache on the stage. Patiently, Joseph had explained each scene, learning by contrast when Michaela wanted him to explain, and when she just wanted to watch. When the curtain fell for the last time, Michaela sat unmoving in his lap, still watching the stage as people began to leave. Joseph would never forget the way she turned to him and with knitted brows asked simply. "It's over?" Before he had tucked her in that night, she had made him promise that they could go back again. They went at least twice every year.

Joseph worked quickly, knowing that once Michaela's battle with her hair was complete she was all but dressed. He had no desire to keep her waiting, knowing that if he did he would never hear the end of it. Reaching for his cologne, he dabbed a subtle amount underneath his ears on each side of his neck before turning over to his dress. His stockings came on, trousers, and shirt. As he finished tucking in his shirt, Joseph moved to the mirror as he attempted to grapple with his necktie. With a final fluff to the satin at his throat and a harsh tug at his vest, Joseph surveyed himself in the mirror. "I believe that'll do." He muttered, reaching for his waistcoat. There was a soft rapt at the door, and Joseph threw a hasty look in that direction before turning back to the mirror. "Come in!" He called, buttoning his coat.

The tall oak door swung open harshly, a sign that there had been a little too much force behind the push, perhaps in excitement, or simple overcompensation for the small stature of the visitor. The rustle of skirts could be heard only momentarily before they ceased and waited patiently for his acknowledgement. Joseph turned from the mirror and his breath caught in his throat. Pride coursed through his veins and sent chills down his spine. What this his little Mike?

The young woman standing before him was absolutely gorgeous. Her long, lean frame was wrapped perfectly in the dark green silk, contrasting brilliantly with the beautiful rust ringlets that adorned her scalp. The full skirts flowed from her waist and drifted to the floor, and a beautiful string of pearls sat across her neck. Just standing there, watching his little girl, now ten years old, Joseph saw her life flash before his eyes. He remembered the night she was born, her first steps, and the first time she ever looked directly at him and said "Papa." He saw it all and more. He saw the years to come, her coming out, graduation from medical school, and eventual partner in his practice. Completely lost in his thoughts, Joseph was ignorant of his suspension in time and place.

Michaela's eyes narrowed. "Father? Is there something wrong?" Her words jarred him from his memories.

"No, no. Just… turn and let me see that new dress." Joseph said, motioning with his finger for her to spin before him. Michaela complied, and once she had ended at her original position, she looked back expectantly.

"What do you think?"

"I think you and Rebecca did a wonderful job." With the final omission, Michaela left her spot at the door and ran toward him throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek. "You look beautiful my Mike."

"And you look handsome! Oh, and you smell good too." She giggled, stepping out of his embrace. Reaching up, she straightened the satin neck kerchief and fluffed the edges. "There."

"Why thank you. I'm astounded at your concern over how I look this evening." Joseph teased, and Michaela rolled her eyes.

"No, I'm just too beautiful tonight to be with anyone with a crooked neck tie." She replied back saucily, taking his hand and pulling him to the door. "Come on it's already six forty-five!"

Neither father nor daughter had hear the knocking at the door downstairs, or how Martha went scurrying through the house to see who was visiting at this hour. The housemaid had just opened the door and greeted the familiar guest when Michaela and her father started for the stairs. Together, Joseph and Mike came into view, hand in hand, joking with one another and smiling. Both of them noticed the visitor at the same time, and both felt their pulse speed up, but for different reasons. Michaela knew what this meant, she knew what was coming next and perhaps that is why she stopped dead in her tracks on the top step, her hand tightening around her father's, begging him not to go any further. She wanted to go back, into her room or his, until the visitor had gone, but this plan never would have worked.

Joseph seemed to be drawn to the door anxious to see what it was that was needed of him. Feeling Michaela's tug on his arm, he moved her aside gently in order to descend the stairs, leaving his daughter to watch as the two men talked below her. Very slowly, taking each step distinctly, Michaela made her way to the foyer and was standing on the bottom step when the door shut. The young man had left and Michaela watched as her father turned toward her, his eyes betraying his disappointment.

"No." Michaela whispered, "Not tonight."

"Mike, you remember me telling you about Mrs. Washington, the woman who was having such a hard time with her baby?"

"No."

"She went into labor about half an hour ago. I need to go."

"No! You promised me tonight was the ballet!"

"Mike…" Joseph kneeled on the level with his daughter, placing a hand on either of her shoulders in an effort to get her to look at him. She did, but her gaze held no interest in what he had to say. "Mrs. Washington needs me."

"I need you. This was our night!" Michaela yelled at him choosing to ignore the look in his eyes. He was just as upset at this as she was, but in Michaela's eyes, he had the choice. What he didn't tonight was up to him.

"Mike, I have to go and help Mrs. Washington have her baby." His words were stern and clear. They were the words of a man who had already made his choice. Moving his hand to cup her cheek, Joseph dropped his voice to a low bass. "I but Rebecca would like to take you to the ballet. There's still a little time for her to dress. You'd be there before the first act was over."

Michaela just shook her head. "The point of going to the ballet tonight was going with you." She whispered, setting her jaw, there was no way around this. He was going to the hospital tonight whether she argued or not. She could see it in his eyes. He was a doctor and she was the daughter. That's what happened when your father was a doctor. Breaking her eyes from his she 

stared at the railing on the staircase trying not to cry. "Just… just go. Go do your job. She needs you more than I do."

"Mike…"

"It's fine!" Michaela called over her shoulder as she ran back up the stairs. No, it wasn't fine. She hated this more than anything else, but it was pointless to argue. Seeking refuge in her room, Michaela stood with her back against the little door waiting to hear that tell all click of the front door, knowing that once she did it meant that her father was gone. When she did hear the click, the finality of it seemed to hurt more than the possibility. Tears welled in her eyes, and she finally allowed them to roll down her cheeks as she ripped the pins out of her hair. _No need for these._ There would be no ballet tonight. All the time they spent talking about it, shopping for the right dress, and reading the stories it was all pointless. Michaela threw each pin onto her vanity, but as she did so, she felt an uncomfortable swirl of emotions.

This wasn't Father's fault. Michaela knew that. Someone needed him and he would help them. That's what made him a good doctor, but once, just once, Michaela wanted to come first. She wanted him to turn them down for her. She didn't want to feel like she was the person that he had fun with when he had the time. It wasn't fair, the thoughts that were swirling through her head. Michael knew none of it was true, but she couldn't stop. She wanted to cry and she needed a reason.

Wiping at her cheeks, she struggled to unbutton the back of her dress. Glancing at the clock hanging on the wall, she frowned. The curtain would be going up right now. The lights would be dimmed and everyone would be clapping and Giselle would begin her dance across the stage. Frustrated with the last two buttons of her dress, she pulled at them, popping them from the garment as the green silk floated to the floor. She didn't pick anything up, she just stepped out of the pile of clothing and moved to the bed, pulling her book from the shelf. If she couldn't see Giselle, she could read it. Climbing into bed, Michaela pulled the covers around her and scooted down, but she didn't read. Her eyes were to blurry, sniffing she pulled her favorite china doll, Lizzie to her chest.

About half an hour later, there was a soft knock on the door. "Come in." Michaela called, rolling toward the door in time to see Martha enter with a warm cup of hot chocolate.

"I thought ya'd need a'bit of a treat tonight." Martha whispered, using the soft tone she always took when she struggled to comfort an upset Michaela. Through most of the child's life, Martha had been the constant. Martha was the one left in the house when Joseph took his late night patients. She was the one there on Christmas morning when there was an emergency and the celebrations had to be postponed until the afternoon. As harsh as Martha's disposition was with the Michaela both knew that her words were out of love, and that disposition could soften when it had to.

Michaela pulled herself to sit up in bed. "Thank you Martha." Taking a cup, she pulled her knees to her chest as Martha took a seat next to the bed.

"He doesn't choose these things. He'd give you the world if he could."

"I know, Martha it's just…" Michaela's word faded her conversation with Miriam come to the forefront of her mind. She had no idea just how true her words had been, but it was all but certain now.

"It's what, child?" Taking a deep breath, Michaela set her jaw.

"If I'm a doctor, I'm not going to have a family."

"Come now, you mustn't say things you don't mean."

"But I do! I can't be a mother and a doctor. It's too hard."

"Well, whatever God has in store for the future. It mustn't be decided tonight." Martha sighed. She had seen the Quinn family through the raising of four grown daughters and had noticed when Michaela, at such a small age showed interest in her father's work. The Doctor had been thrilled at Michaela's curiosity and continued to nurture that intrigue within the child. Dr. Quinn had been so proud the first time Michaela had announced that she wanted to be a doctor and he vowed that he would do everything in his power to make that dream come true, but Martha saw more to it than that. She understood that the child's desire to enter a man's profession in a man's world had more to do with not having anyone to show her what it meant to be a woman. Many 

young girls have dreams for adventures, but those dreams are quickly replaced with the true desires of a girl's heart. Michaela may not want a family now, but Martha knew that one day Michaela would meet someone and desire a child to hold in her arms at night. She would likely walk away from her dreams of becoming a doctor and never look back.

Martha watched the young girl now with her tear stained cheeks and her jaw set. Her determination was remarkable, and one of the things that made her so lovable, but it would also cause her the most heartache. Diverting her eyes and trying to find a distraction, Martha noticed the book lying next to Michaela's pillow. "Would you like a tale a' fore bed?"

Michaela's perked a little as she licked hot chocolate from her lips. "Would you read to me about Giselle?"

"Alright, you lay yourself back an' close your eyes, and for heaven's sakes don't spill the mug."

Michaela, unaware of Martha's doubts and concern for her future, laughed, feeling the disappointment of the afternoon fall away as Martha resumed her harsh exterior. "I won't, Martha."

_Yay chapter 6. What did you think?_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Walter Jameson sat alone in his study the way he did every Wednesday as he prepared his sermon for the next week. The routine had been the same as it had been for the past six years. Walter sat, reading one text, every once in a while stopping only to reference something out of another book and occasionally pulling his Bible from the right corner of the desk before making notes. He worked in an organized chaos. Anyone else would have walked into the small little study, examined the two old velvet seats, the dimmed lighting, and the old books that seemed to overflow from the shelves that surrounded them, and not be able to see around the mess. It would have to be cleaned before anything could be accomplished, and yet, Walter saw the little room as his safe haven, the place where God talked to him more than anywhere else. Even now, he was enjoying the calming silence that filled the room, displaced only by the crackling fire and rustling pages. If he had been paying attention, he would have heard the frustrated footsteps descend the stairs outside, and the hasty swishing of skirt, but he wasn't listening. Instead, Walter was completely lost in his own private world as he scribbled notes in the margin of his books. Needless to say that when the door swung open almost banging into the wall, he was shaken from his solace.

"Darling?" Walter startled from his seat, pulling his small spectacles away from his face as he started for his flustered wife. Walter was not an exceedingly handsome man. He had inset eyes and high cheekbones. His jaw was finely sculpted and came to a gentle point. He had a round little nose that sat above two small, red lips, lips that smiled often and spoke softly. His fine, sandy hair was cropped close to his head. He wasn't a big man by any means. In fact, he was almost mouse like, but this fact eluded most people. Most everyone who knew the young preacher associated with him his regal way with words, a gentle, calming wisdom, not any sort of physical statures.

Setting his small eyes now on his bride, he placed his hands on her shoulders. "Whatever is the matter?" As small and quiet Walter Jameson was, his wife was the exact opposite. Her delicately sculptured face held a harsh interior. Quick to anger and outspoken, Claudette Quinn Jameson didn't fit the standard formula for a preacher's wife, but folks didn't seem to notice much. She was just a product of her upbringing. After all, Boston Massachusetts was a far cry from the small town of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. Heaving a sign, Claudette popped the letter she was holding against the front of her skirt and stepped into the room.

"My Father is the most obtuse man that has ever walked this planet." She exclaimed brushing past her husband as she entered the room, touching various objects that lay in her path. Walter smiled. It was a usual sign for Claudette to want to straighten things when she was upset, even now she seemed to struggle with the desire to right the books that scattered across the shelves, but she had promised long ago to allow her husband his space and she usually was kept her word. "You're working on your sermon?" She asked absent mindedly, her hands patting at a stack of books on the corner of his desk, making all the edges line up correctly.

"I am." Walter moved across the room, gently placing his fingertips on the books, stilling her motions. Claudette took the sign and moved along, choosing to confine herself to one of the velvet chairs that sat in front of his desk. "What's happened?"

"Oh, nothing too serious I suppose. I just received a letter from Rebecca."

"Oh, how is she and Thomas?"

"They're doing well and she said the boys are growing. It seems Tommy is running everywhere he goes now, and Randall's trying to talk."

"Well that's good to hear. Did Thomas win the case he had been working so hard on?"

"He did."

"All right, so what's the problem?" He asked quietly, leaning on the edge of his desk. Claudette huffed once more, and Walter had to suppress a grin. Whatever the matter was, he was certain that it wasn't anywhere near as bad as what she was making it out to be.

"Rebecca happened to mention Michaela in her letter. She wrote about how wild she's getting. Just running around wherever she goes in whatever matter presentable…. Oh for heaven's sakes, Walter won't you let me pick out another chair for you?" Claudette interrupted herself as her fingernails picked across the velvet arms rest. Rolling her fingers along the fabric, she watched as her nail disappeared into a hole and returned. Chuckling, Walter pulled her face into his hands, causing her to look at him.

"How about we solve one problem at a time." He smiled at her as he took a seat on the ottoman before her, grasping her hands in his to keep her mind on what she was saying. "Now Michaela has been acting questionably?"

"Oh, she's just wild. Father puts no limitations on her at all. Apparently, she climbs the tree in the backyard, and runs through the house. Rebecca said that one day Martha found her climbing the rafters in the carriage house _without her skirt_." Claudette exclaims this last bit as if it were the most scandalous act possible.

"I suppose I don't see the problem in that. Children run and play. It's normal for them."

"Yes, children, but she's ten. She should be learning to present herself into society. She should know how to function around ladies, not father's colleagues. She should know the proper way to host a gathering, not quote Emerson. This is all his fault. This is ruining her."

"Come now, Claudia, I hardly think the child is ruined."

"Six years, Walter, six years until her coming out. Do you have any idea what goes in behind that? Even if she started now she would hardly know everything she would need to be able to be presented. She'll have a dickens of a time finding a husband once news of her antics spreads through Boston, and let's not even discuss about her talk of becoming a doctor!"

"But how is this your father's fault?"

"He's refused every sort of advice we've given him. He even refuses to send Michaela to a boarding school. Look at Marjorie, Ms. Peabody's is the best thing that ever happened to her. She's coming along beautifully, but he just won't listen to reason." Sighing, she put her head in her hands. "He should have remarried years ago. This wouldn't be an issue then." She huffed under her breath as Walter thought over the problem at hand.

"Well what did Rebecca say?"

"She said she spoke to him."

"Then perhaps that's enough. Maybe all he needed was to have someone point it out." Claudette guffawed.

"Please! I know Rebecca. She probably went in with her softest voice and asked him to "please be more careful with what he allowed Michaela to do, it might not turn out well in the end." That's not the way this should be handled. He needs to be told the truth of what's going on!" Suddenly it was as if a key had been turned, and Walter could see the solution clearly.

"Why don't we invite Michaela to come and stay with us?" He asked in a quiet voice, judging his wife's reaction. "That way, you can help teach her, and she's still not in school. It doesn't have to be too long and she could go home whenever she liked."

"Oh, do you think we could? Do you think he'd agree to that?"

"We won't know until we ask him." Claudette felt as if the weight was lifting from her chest as her husband filtered light through the darkness. Yes, she could do this. She could make certain that Michaela was learning what she needed in order to become a proper lady.

"You wouldn't mind?" Walter smiled at the way his wife perked and sat a little straighter. He understood the magnitude of Michaela's education in Claudette's eyes.

"Of course not. I adore your sister, and it may be nice to have a child in the manse." He smiled secretively as he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.

"I'll go write the letters."

"Why don't we wait at least until New Years? I believe this conversation might go better in person."

Disappointment spread across her face. "But the sooner the better, really Walter…"

"If Dr. Quinn is having a hard time sending her to a boarding school. We need to make sure that we're all on the same page of why we want to do this. He'll be more likely to agree."

Nodding, Claudette smiled "Alright. We'll wait until New Years and speak to him then." She turned and made her way to the door, but stopped before she left. Turning toward him, she forced a smile. "Thank you. I'm sorry for interrupting your writing." Nodding at his wife, Walter sat down as he heard the door click in front of him. Placing his hands on either side of his desk, he thought back over what he had been writing before Claudette had entered. He pulled out the passage, and shook his head. Taking the notes he had been collecting he scratched out the working title of his sermon. This wouldn't do for Sunday; he had another idea. Dipping the pen into the ink, he hastily scribbled across the top of the page. _The Importance of Family_.

* * *

Marjorie stood in the center of the modest bedroom and gazing around her as if she were in a trance. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined anything like this. She had been in Sarah's house for no more than an hour, and she was already in love with the little home. Of course, it could never rival her own home in Boston, but there was so much more here that Marjorie felt was missing from Boston. There were little, homey touches that dotted each room, giving the space spirit and life.

Sarah's bedroom was the best of them all. Everything about it embodied girlhood wishes and dreams. There was a pastel sketch of a landscape hanging on the wall next to the door, small little figurines dotted the fireplace mantels, and a bouquet of fresh flowers sat on a table underneath the window. The pastel paper that covered the walls was warm and inviting. Marjorie felt instantly at home.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" She exclaimed, making her way to the window. Leaning over the sill, she watched at men and women passed by on the street below, unaware of being observed.

"It's not much." Sarah's quiet voice spoke as she entered the room and signaled for the house servant to place their valises in the corner of the room. "Nothing as big as what your used to I'm sure."

"It doesn't matter, I love it here. You have a beautiful home."

Sarah had been right. Her home, her family was nothing like what Marjorie was used to. Marjorie had grown up in the elite of Boston society. Her father was a well-respected doctor and her mother had come from one of the wealthiest families in Massachusetts. Marjorie had grown up in grandeur and elegance. Sarah, on the other hand, came from a very modest upper middle class family. Her father was a successful writer and had built his estate from the bottom up. It had been a point of pride among the family for when they were able to send Sarah to Ms. Peabody's Academy and then to know that her older brother, Alex, would be going to college soon. However, Marjorie saw none of these differences, just as Sarah knew wouldn't.

"Well then I'm glad." Sarah said with a grin. "Let's unpack and then we can have lunch."

Marjorie lingered at the window for only a moment, watching the way the wind danced in the trees. As she turned from her position, she let her fingers dance across the lacy bedspread. It felt wonderful to be in such a place. It felt like being home.

_Well that's chapter 7! I have a surprise for you guys. Chapter 8 will be out later today or early tomorrow!!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Do you want the last strawberry?"

"I don't think I could take another bite!" Marjorie reclined back on the soft quilt that lay separating her from the ground and sighed. She didn't think she had ever eaten so much in her life. Everything was just so good. And the sweets! Martha never made so many sweets, much less let her eat them all. There was strawberries and cream, pound cake, chocolate pudding, and that was only the dessert.

"Oh come on, you can't be that full!"

"I think I'd have to loosen my stays if I tried another bite." Marjorie let each of her muscles relax into the ground as she stared into the gently swaying leaves. "Besides," she added remembering Sarah's constant ladylike disposition, "I thought Ms. Peabody always said that a young lady ate like a bird."

"She does unless she's eating Nancy's food!" Sarah giggled. Nancy was the ever-adored housemaid of the Clarkson family. Marjorie had never tasted anything like Nancy's creations before, but she was very glad to hear that today's picnic lunch was not unusual. Apparently, she could expect to eat in such luxury for all of her stay in New York. "So what do we do now?"

"Oh, I think we can just lay here and take a nap."

"In the park?" Marjorie looked around. It was such a beautiful day out. The air was chilly, but the sun was out and warming. There wasn't much of a breeze, but just enough of one to elicit a leaf or two to drift from the trees around them. The air was quiet and the atmosphere was relaxing. There wasn't much that was going on in the little park today. Faintly, in the distance, she could hear childish laughter, and there was the crunching sound of gravel as people passed by them, it was so calm, so serene.

"We could, I don't think anyone would bother us."

"Marjorie, that's the silliest thing I think I've ever heard. We're not napping in the park."

"Oh all right." Marjorie sat up and looked left to right. "What do you want to do?"

"Let's walk and we'll think of something." As the two girls stood, they packed the picnic basket back up and sat it next to a tree. They would retrieve it on their way out of the park.

Setting down the little dirt path, Marjorie could barely contain her excitement. She couldn't place a finger on it, but there was such a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had felt it since the second she got off the train with Sarah. The strange new town, the freedom to come and go, the absence of prying eyes that made her just feel… free. It took everything in Marjorie's body to prevent her from running down the walk path, letting her hair fly in the wind behind her, and she still wasn't sure that she could make it through the day without letting her guard down at least once, but then again she didn't want Sarah's mother to get the wrong impression.

"Hey, watch out." Marjorie cried as a cloth ball came flying at them, landing in the grass not too far from where they had been standing.

"I'm sorry, Miss. It was a bad shot was all. We didn't mean no harm." A young boy about seven or eight came wondering up to them looking slightly embarrassed that he had disrupted their stroll. Marjorie went to rebuke the child. _Don't you know how dangerous that could be?_ But Sarah beat her to it.

"Oh, that's alright. You just be a little careful next time." Sarah's rosy lips curled into a subtle, almost motherly grin as she placed the ball back in the boy's hands.

"You never cease to amaze me, Sarah." Marjorie said once the lad was out of earshot. Sarah laughed, the sincere compliment embarrassing her humble spirit.

"Amaze you about what? What could possibly be amazing about returning a ball to a seven year old?"

"You're just… always slow to angry and always gentle. I can never be like that for the simple reason that I never slow down. I always see the bad that could come of things and you always see the good."

"That's why we're best friends. We get to see things differently for each other." Sarah smiled, her gaze floating off to the horizon and then she stopped and clutched Marjorie by the arm. "Oh! Let's rent a boat."

"What?"

"Let's rent a boat. They're right over there." Sarah watched as her friend made herself unmovable against the excited tugs.

"Sarah Clarkson, do you think we look like boatmen?" Marjorie's blunt words made Sarah giggle.

"Come on. No one said we had to be perfect at it, and besides I've wanted to try this for so long and no one would ever go with me."

"Not even your brother?"

"No he says it's childish." As soon as she said it, the irony struck Sarah and she laughed with unashamed glee. Her voice drifted along the wind and blended into the background with the sound of childhood joys that floated around them. "Please…"

"Oh, all right." Marjorie rolled her eyes as she finally allowed herself to be tugged in the direction of the little lake.

It took the girls all of ten minutes to get down to the little lake and find a boat, and then another ten to actually get into the vessel, but they had manage and they were still reasonably dry… for now. The girls just took their time, allowing themselves to follow the rhythm of the water to the middle of the lake where they sat back and enjoyed the cool breeze.

"Heaven help us when we decide to make it back to shore." Marjorie said dryly, closing her eyes as the sunlight beamed directly on her relaxed frame.

"Oh, it won't be so bad. I think we're supposed to use those sticks to row back." Sarah shrugged. She was sitting on the other end of the boat with her chin propped up on the edge watching the water as it swayed beneath them. "Oh Marjorie, look at this!" She exclaimed sitting up a little.

"What is it?"

"A fish. A big fish and it was orange with black spots."

"Do fish even have spots?" Marjorie asked moving to sit next to her friend and leaning over the side.

"That one did." Sarah shrugged giggling. Not that she really knew what a fish with spots should look like. Giggling she thought to add, "Do you think he was sick. I think he looked a little green around the gills."

Marjorie burst out in laughter, falling against the side of the boat, nearly causing it to tip in the direction of their weight. It was only Sarah's swift movement to the other side that saved them from tumbling in.

As they girls caught their breath, they quieted down, and Marjorie ventured to speak. "I like being out here. You can watch people and they never even realize it." Her face was turned to the busy little path that wound around the lake.

"Marjorie, it's not polite to spy."

"I'm not spying, I'm just wondering about people. Like that little girl over there. Who do you think she is?" Marjorie nodded to a small child, probably no older than four that crouched in the grass, inspecting something with all her energy."

"I don't know." Sarah answered, but Marjorie seemed to be unaffected by her opinion.

"I think she is an only child. She's the pride of her father. Just look at the way he watches her from that bench over there. She likes to smell the flowers, because her mother has a big garden at home." As she spoke, the little girl's father stood from his bench and pulled the child into his arms. Twirling her around about his head, he kissed her on the cheek before nestling her to his chest and staring out of the park. A little dog trailed behind them.

Sarah let out a breath. "How did you know all of that?"

"I didn't. I just made it up. I do that sometime, wonder what someone's story is. If I don't know their story, I just guess. No one is here to tell me differently." Sarah smiled and tugged on Marjorie's sleeve.

"What about them, over there, the couple standing next to that elm." Marjorie turned her gaze to the couple standing under the shade. The gentleman was much older than the young lady, by twenty years at least, but he stood over her as if whispering to her as he gently held her hand. "What do you think?"

Lowering her voice, Marjorie crouched in the boat.

"He's really married to another woman." Sarah gasped. "They have been carrying on this affair for some time now, but his wife got sick and he can't leave her although he wants to. He has to stay and take care of her, so he must leave his true sweetheart here and go home to…Philadelphia. His mistress must wait here for him to write to her. She cannot write, she cannot visit, or anything like that. No one must find out about their affair, but she doesn't know that he'll soon catch what his wife has and die. She'll never know what happened to him; she'll just know he didn't come for her.

"Oh that's so sad." Sarah whispered watching the now doomed couple intently. Marjorie turned and was distressed to see actual tears in her friend's eyes.

"Cheer up, Sarah. It's only a story."

Sniffling, the young lady dabbed daintily at her eyes. "Would you believe I had forgotten? That's what you need to be Marjorie, a writer. You could write all sorts of stories."

"Like anyone would be interested in reading them."

"I would read them."

"So they'd sell one copy." Marjorie joked lightly, turning her back to the visitors of the park now. It was beginning to get hot in the afternoon sun. She was beginning to sweat and her dress was making her uncomfortable. "I think it's about time we go in. What time is supper tonight?"

"It's always at seven. Oh, and Nancy's making her famous cherry cobbler. You're in for a treat!" Sarah clapped her hands in delight as Marjorie groaned and, rubbing her hand over her already full belly, sank deeper into the boat.

"If I eat like this too much longer, I'll never be able to fasten my corset."

"Oh you say that, but you love it."

Marjorie grinned broadly. "Yes, I do."

* * *

"Aren't you ready yet?" Sarah laughed as she turned the corner into her bedroom and saw Marjorie still sitting in front of the vanity. Marjorie's head was bowed, her chin digging into her chest as she struggled with a necklace she was trying to close. In one smooth motion, Sarah entered the room and fastened the jewelry with a quick flick of her fingers. "It's nothing that special, just dinner with my family."

"I think it's worth it to dress for Nancy's dinner!" Marjorie chuckles, adding a quick flip of her hair in the mirror before turning to the door. She laughed happily, "No, really I just want you parents to like me."

"Marjorie they love you! If for no other reason than I love you, but I have it in strictest confidence that Mother thinks you are the most elegant young lady she has ever met."

"Oh you're fibbing."

"I'm not, she told me last night. See, you don't have to try so hard after all." Taking Marjorie's hand in hers she pulled her friend along with her to the dining room.

All during dinner, an easy conversation accompanied the family at the dining room table. The meal was delicious, and Marjorie found herself at ease at the table, almost as if she were a member of the family. Mr. Clarkson was not a big man; instead, he was somewhat narrow of shoulder, with dull grey eyes that seemed to shimmer with his smile. His son, Alex was going to be quite handsome one day, Marjorie could tell that now. He was taller than both her and Sarah and carried himself with a very sophisticated air, although once he spoke his true sense of humor broke the surface. His inner personality didn't seem to meet his out appearance. However, with all the members of Sarah's family, it was her mother that Marjorie thought she loved most of all. Mrs. Clarkson was petite and beautiful. She had a thick mane of chocolate brown hair and rosy red lips. She had a voice that sounded like birds singing and a fluttery laughter that made everyone else smile as well. Her eyes were soft and kind and she held intense care for her daughter's friend.

"Tell me how it was in the park today, Marjorie. Did you enjoy it?" She asked quietly, sipping at her soup.

"Oh, it was so nice. Sarah and I got a boat and went out on the lake." Alex turned his eyes to his baby sister and teased.

"I didn't even know you knew how to use a boat, Sarah." He chided.

"Well, you know, once we figures out that everyone sat inside and it floated on the water, it was all smooth sailing from there." Sarah shrugged off his little comment, but smiled back at him secretly knowing he would be amused by the little pun. "It was fun though, Mother. We saw interesting fish and watched people go by on the walkway." She decided it best not to mention how they both sat staring at people wandering along the little footpath, knowing how her mother would softly scold the girls for their rudeness.

"Well, that's just splendid. I'm glad Sarah finally found someone to take her out on that lake. She talks about it so often."

"It took some prodding to get me to join." Marjorie added laughingly, but her mind drifted to Boston, and the little park not far from their home. There were always people out on that little lake, enjoying a little boat ride. Until today, she had never thought that she had ever wanted to go boating, but Sarah once again had proved her wrong. Sometimes, Marjorie wondered if Sarah knew her more than she knew herself.

"Well, I'm sure you have something similar to our park in Boston." It was all that was needed to make Marjorie clam up. She wasn't sure why or how, but there was a little hum in the back of her mind that told her of her desire to not say anything at all. She didn't want to talk about Boston; she didn't even want to think about Boston.

"Yes, we have a little one not far from our house."

"Do you go very often?"

_Don't tell her. It's not necessary for her to know about where you come from. You're here now, that's all that matters._ "Every once in a while, when I'm home, but I'm not home very often." _My little sister loves it though. I think Father takes her all the time_. Frowning, Marjorie looked down at her peas. "Boston isn't near as pretty as New York," she added.

Sarah frowned. She knew Marjorie rarely talked about her home and her family, but she seemed particularly tense tonight. Desperate to take the attention off her friend, she cleared her throat. "I think I'm going to take Marjorie shopping tomorrow. Her father sent her some money for shopping as a birthday present, and I still need to get her something as well." At the sound of this, Marjorie's head shot up and she stared blankly at Sarah.

"You don't have to do that. Spending time in New York as my birthday was enough."

"I know, but I wanted to get you something special. "

A strange fluttering at the pit of Marjorie's stomach started as she listened to her best friend. It was so strange to hear something like that_. She wants to get me something special_. Every once in a while a girl, or woman, is lucky enough to find a special kind of friend, the kind of friend that they can call their own. Each conversation, each look is up lifting, proof that they are indeed understood and loved. As Marjorie turned her attention from Sarah to the entire family that sat around the little table, she felt a comforting warmth fill her chest. It wasn't just Sarah. Here, in New York, Marjorie felt like she belonged, like she was part of a family, needed, and wanted. She felt like she was truly cared for, and the feeling was almost over whelming. Struggling against tears that clouded her vision, she bit her lip. It would be ridiculous to have to explain why she was crying. Marjorie simply lowered her gaze down to her food. As she ate, she felt a familiar hand on her back.

_Ok so ya got 7 and 8! What did you think?_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Marjorie opened her eyes against the early morning sun. The warm beams fluttered in through the thin window treatments and caused Marjorie to smile. Stretching her body the length of the bed, she felt the feather mattress bend under her weight and she yawned, bringing tears to her eyes. Rolling back onto her other side, she pulled the blankets tight under her chin, wondering if she could go back to sleep. Marjorie couldn't remember the last time she woke up in such luxury. The bed was so comfortable and it was worth it just to know that she didn't have to wake up and go to class. It was beautiful, but as much as she wished she could stop time it simply could not be done. Disappointedly Marjorie heard the quiet sound of the door creak open and she barely opened her eyes to see a familiar figure enter the room.

Sarah was still wearing her nightgown as she tiptoed back into her room and tried to quietly set the breakfast tray on a table at the foot of the bed. She stood there for just a moment, staring at the tray of Nancy's breakfast, the sweet smells making her stomach grumble before turning toward the bed. She was tempted to eat, very tempted, but somehow it just didn't seem right. She took a few steps over to the bed, wrapping her arms around the bedpost as she watched the sleeping form intently.

Marjorie felt Sarah's weight hang on the bedpost. The entire bed shifted slightly, and Marjorie knew she was being watched. Playing 'possum, Marjorie kept her eyes closed, but couldn't resist the temptation not to smile. Slowly, and very much against her will her lips curled at the edges.

"Ah ha! I knew you weren't asleep." Sarah cried, bouncing the end of the bed a bit. "Wake up so we can have breakfast." Marjorie complied as Sarah retrieved the tray and deposited it on the bed before crawling under the covers herself. She pulled at the quilts and tucked them in around her legs, making herself warm against the cool November air.

"I didn't know that we were having breakfast up here this morning."

"Nancy thought it would be a nice treat. This way we can eat and get ready to go out. Mama said that we could take the buggy with us to go shopping this afternoon, and we could see a little bit of the city while we were at it."

"Oh really? We can be in the city just the two of us?" Marjorie leaned over and scanned the contents of the silver tray before her. She poked at the fruit sitting before her. Dabbing a little sugar on the food, she selected a strawberry and popped it into her mouth.

"Well, Johnny will drive us, but he won't go in with us. He'll just stay in the buggy, so it'll be like being by ourselves. " Sarah leaned back against the headboard with a cup of orange juice. "So do you know what you would like to get today?"

Marjorie just shrugged, taking a bit of bacon. "I don't know. I think I might like a new dress for the Christmas Dance."

"Oh, that'll be fun! I think we should start at Sahara's and then Carmichael's. We could have lunch at The Walnut Hill."

"That sounds lovely. When do we leave?"

"As soon as we finish eating."

* * *

"Where to now, Miss Sarah?" Johnny called to the young ladies who were gracefully clamoring into the back of the buggy. The air was a lot chillier than it had been in the park the day before. Even under their coats, the girls were shivering slightly. Sarah tossed the wrapped package onto the seat in front of them before snuggling down on the leather seat next to Marjorie, who promptly covered them both with a heavy blanket.

"Um…" Sarah shivered a little, pulling the blanket under her chin. "I think we want to go to Carmichael's, but can you take the long way? I want to show Marjorie some of the city."

"You know we could go home. We don't have to shop anymore. I'm sure I won't find anything." Marjorie sighed, a little disappointed that the morning had been a bust. Well, for her at least. Sarah had been successful in finding a new dress for Christmas and a new pair of shoes for school. Marjorie on the other hand was stuck on trying to find just the right dress, the right color, the right cut, the right everything. "It's alright to wait for the perfect dress." Sarah had told her as they scanned the contents of the last dress shop. Looking around Marjorie sighed, she knew Sarah was right there was a perfect dress out there somewhere, but as the day went on Marjorie only got more frustrated with herself. By now her frustration was bordering a little on self-pity.

"Of course we're not going home. You're going to get a beautiful dress for the dance and I'm going to find you a birthday present if it's the last thing I do today!" Sarah cried the last little bit in laughter, trying to lighten Marjorie's mood just a little. "Carmichael's is the best dress shop in all of New York. If you don't find anything there then we'll call it quits, but not until then." Sarah nodded determinedly and grinned as she watched a smile stretch across her friends face. Sometimes all Marjorie needed was to know that someone was still interested.

Turning her attention on the city around them, Sarah took a deep breath. The one thing that couldn't be said about New York was that it smelled pleasant. There were too many horses and too much mud, but it was comfortable and familiar. She loved the buildings and the shopping, the things to do, but at the end of the day, she enjoyed going home, to her room and her park. It was so pretty at home.

Seeing a large, two story decorative building inset off a side street, Sarah pointed at it to get Marjorie's attention. "That's Apollo Rooms. The New York Philharmonic played their first concert there last December. I didn't get to go, but I heard it was amazing. They started the concert with Beethoven's 5th symphony and they played for nearly three hours."

"Wow." Marjorie whispered taking in the large building. It wasn't very unusual from any of the buildings she had seen in Boston. She thought for just a moment on Sarah's words before adding her brutally honest opinion. "I think that would get boring rather quickly." Sarah laughed.

"I suppose it would, but Papa promised he'd take me the next time they performed."

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I think you'd like it, but I don't have a musical bone in my body. After the first half hour everything would sound the same." Marjorie laughed.

"Come on. It's not that bad."

"Ok, I'll give you that. What's that building over there?" Marjorie leaned over Sarah as she saw a huge building come into view. The structure was three stories tall with beautifully etched molding around the roof and large ionic columns that ran the length the front. The building itself was made of a red brick while the corners and molding appeared to be of marble. It wasn't an exceptionally pretty structure by any means, but it did look important.

"That's the Tammany Hall." Sarah explained, turning her attention to the building. "It's the headquarters of the Tammany society and the Democratic Party."

"Oh," Marjorie wrinkled her nose. "Politics." As quickly as her interest appeared it was gone just as fast. Instead, as the little buggy turned down another street, her attention was drawn once again to the street. There was a woman, a strange looking woman who was walking down the sidewalk. Marjorie didn't know what it was, but she immediately knew that this strange woman was not like her. There was something different. The woman wasn't little by any means; she was actually quite big, curvy even. Her dress was made of silk and satin, but it was bright pink and blue in contrast to the conservative colors that draped the ladies surrounding her. The bodice fit her tightly and her bosom was well exposed, even though it was barely past noon. The woman was wearing a heavy red velvet cap and hood which was laid back to expose a large mass of blonde curls, unnaturally blonde curls. Marjorie just couldn't take her eyes off the strange woman. There was something peculiar about her. Perhaps it was the rigid, overly proud way she carried herself, moving slowly down the sidewalk not looking left or right, just straight ahead. As the little buggy passed the blonde woman on the street, Marjorie's eyes locked with the woman's, and she instantly felt her face flush. This wasn't right, something was wrong here and she didn't know what. Quickly she turned her gaze to Sarah who was saying something and tried to focus on her friend's words, all the while trying to slow her thumping heart. It was useless, though. No matter what she did, she just couldn't seem to remove that woman's face from her mind.

"Marjorie? Marjorie." Sarah jarred her friend from her thoughts with a quick tug on the shoulder. "You're not giving up on me yet are you?" Sarah smiled, oblivious to the confusion Marjorie was trying to work through in her mind.

"No, one more store right?"

As the two girls climbed down from the buggy, they headed into a building directly off the street. The store itself was much bigger than it looked on the outside. Dresses alternated between hangers and modeling figures situated sporadically throughout the room. Shelves lining the walls were dotted with shoes in various styles and colors. There was a hat rack in the corner, standing next to a full-length mirror and a display of hankies not to too far from there. Toward the back of the store, near the dressing rooms, the shelves were lines with bolts and bolts of fabric.

"Good afternoon ladies, may I help you with something?" The storekeeper asked, from behind a counter. He was folding shawls and preparing to put them away.

Sarah looked over from where she was fingering handbags. "Oh I think we're just looking for now. Thank you, though." She smiled sweetly before turning her attention back to the bags.

Marjorie took little time to scan the room. The hats were to ornate, the hand bags were to glittery, none of the shoes looked comfortable, and judging from her experience earlier today all of the perfume sitting at the display was too strong. She sighed, not sure of where to start, but then something caught her eyes. There, hanging on a model was one of the most beautiful dresses Marjorie had ever laid her eyes on.

Making her way straight to the dramatic garment, Marjorie fingered the soft fabric between her fingers. The dress was deep red velvet one piece with a long flowing skirt. The bodice was off the shoulder and the sleeves were short and tight with a bit of white lace around the bottom. It was perfect and beautiful. It was the one she had been looking for all day.

"Oh that's gorgeous." Sarah's breathless whisper suddenly broke the silence next to Marjorie.

"It is isn't it?"

"And it will look lovely on you. That red will make your hair shimmer."

Marjorie felt herself smile. Yes, this was the one, and she just knew that it was going to fit. Turning from the dress, she spotted the shopkeeper still at the counter. "Sir, can I try this on?"

The girls made their way out to the street with packages in hand. The cool air almost took their breath away. The inside of the store had been so warm, so inviting that they had forgotten how cold it was outside. Spotting the buggy sitting patiently for the down the road they began to make their way in that direction.

"I have to admit that I'm glad the shopping is done for the day. I spent far too much." Sarah explained, hugging the tiny little package to her chest.

"Oh not at all. That little purse you bought will match your new dress so beautifully."

Sarah smiled. She was proud of her accomplishments today. "Well we must say something about your dress. You know you're going to be the envy of the entire school if you wear that. It's too beautiful. I wish you had let me buy it for you. I still haven't gotten you anything for your birthday."

"Nonsense that was Father's job. He did send the money after all."

"I know but…" Sarah stopped suddenly, realizing that her friend was no longer listening to what she had to say. Instead, Marjorie was staring into a window, carefully observing the items laid out in the window. Sarah turned and backtracked to where Marjorie stood now.

"What's the name of this store?" she asked not taking her eyes off the window.

Sarah looked up at the words scrawled across the windows. _Tiffany, Young, and Ellis_, it said. She gestured at the sign with her hand. "Tiffany and… company." She answered, shortening the name a little. "Why? What do you see?"

Marjorie took a deep breath, and when she looked up she had tears in her eyes. Slightly alarmed, Sarah stepped closer to her friend. "No it's nothing like that." Marjorie said waving her friend off. She hated crying. It was humiliating. "It's that… it's that necklace in the window." Marjorie pointed to a piece of jewelry laid out in the glass casing. The necklace was made out of a dark vulcanite, giving it the impression of being nearly black. The charm was oval with an intricate rose carved into the facing.

"It's very beautiful."

"It looks like one my mother use to have. My father gave it to her. The only difference is that the front of hers has Forget-Me-Nots carved on it. Not roses."

Sarah grew quiet. She knew how important Marjorie's mother was to her. She knew that above everything else, the loss of her mother was what defined Marjorie, and so she understood how special this necklace was. "What happened to your mother's necklace?"

"I don't know. I never saw it again." Marjorie fell silent, and Sarah didn't say anything either. Instead, the two girls just stood there looking into the window, and then Sarah had an idea.

"Come on." She exclaimed grasping her friend's hand.

"What? Where are we going?"

"I still have to buy you a birthday present and I know the perfect thing." Sarah eagerly entered the store, Marjorie following behind her.

A few seconds later a store clerk could be seen in the window. He was removing a beautiful vulcanite necklace from the display case.

* * *

Michaela reclined back on the soft pillows on her bed. She was laying on top of the sheets, enjoying the warmth of the glowing fire as she waited for the bed warmer, Martha put in her bed to work its magic. Stretching her arms, she contorted her body to relieve her tired muscles. The soft tick tock of the mantle clock keeping a steady rhythm was slowly lulling her to sleep. Rubbing at her eyes, she once more turned her attention to the open book that was laying on her bent knees. While she read, her hands gravitated to a black thread around her neck and slid down until she felt the familiar smooth charm. Her fingers danced over the edges of the black vulcanite medallion and grazed across the top of the flowery edging. She didn't have to look at the charm to know the details of the Forget-Me-Nots that were engraved over the facing. The charm had belonged to Michaela's mother and as such, the little girl never parted with the jewelry. It remained around her neck permanently, and often times in quite times such as these when Michaela was alone and in her own world her fingers reached for the comforting charm.

Unable to keep her eyes on her book any longer (even the letters were beginning to blur together) Michaela slowly allowed her eyes to close and she felt her body begin slowly to relax. Her senses heightened, she toyed with the necklace lying on her chest. Slowly she slid deeper and deeper into a state of suspension between consciousness and sleep. Her hands and toes tingled, and her mind began to flash back through the scenes of the story she was reading.

"_Father, we must make it to the fort by nightfall." Michaela said running up to where her father was riding a horse. _

"_We'll make it one time. Don't worry Mike." Joseph's eyes shone as he smiled down at her. Reaching out with his hand, he caught her up underneath her arm and pulled her up to sit in front of him. Kicking the horse slightly, Joseph took the trail at a near gallop. Giggling as they ran down the dirt path, Michaela felt the wind floating through her hair and dust sting at her eyes. They were racing up a small embankment, the last obstruction between them, and their camp for the night. Climbing the top of the hill, Joseph stopped, pulling back on the reigns and allowing the horse to rear slightly. When they finally settled, what Michaela saw in the valley below stopped her heart. Hundreds of tepees were sprawled across the earth, each reaching high to the sky. From here, the people of the village seemed to look like little ants. The horse reared once more, throwing Michaela off balance and she jerked to regain her composure. _

Waking from the sudden movement of her body, Michaela blinked a few times trying to discern reality from her dream. Stretching again, she flipped her book closed for the night, considering her intentions a lost cause. Just as she laid the story on her bedside table there was a soft knock on the door before the unmistakable squeaking of her door.

Joseph winced, stepping into the room. "I promise I going to have Harrison fix that one day." He whispered stepping into the room.

"You've been saying that for almost a year now." Michaela replied dryly, watching him through slitted eyes. Rolling over to her side, she tucked her arms under herself for warmth.

"You look comfy and sleepy." Joseph whispered sitting down on the floor next to her bed.

"I fell asleep while I was reading my book." She mumbled lazily.

"Oh, what are you reading?" Joseph asked, reaching for the book laying on the nightstand and tilting it up so he could see the leather binding.

"It's a collection of short stories about the west. Oh and I had a dream about Indians."

"What about them."

"I don't know. You and I were riding through the plains and we came across this hill and there they were. It was scary. I think even the horse spooked." Michaela frowned, trying to piece back the scenes of her dream. Joseph, still sitting next to her sighed.

"You know just because Indians are different from us doesn't mean their mean or wicked. They're nothing to be afraid of."

Michaela frowned. "Do you think it is wrong to be afraid of them?" She felt as though she were being silently reprimanded. She didn't want to do anything her father would be disappointed in, but how could she control the way she felt in her dreams.

"I don't think it's wrong to be afraid. Different is scary, but I think that it's important for you to make sure that your fear is only because you do not understand and not because you dislike them."

"Why would I dislike them if I don't know them?" Michaela's question elicited a chuckle from her father as he lifted her from the bed in order to pull the covers back. Laying her back down, he covered her up once again.

"That's precisely the question you need to remember, my dear. Now, is the bed nice and toasty?" Michaela nodded, yawning. "Well the, sleep tight." Leaning forward her kissed her on the forehead before blowing out the lamp beside her. Picking up her worn dress from the evening, he laid it across a chair on his way to the door.

"Father?" The soft little voice disrupted his passage into the hallway, calling him back into her little room.

"What it is Mike?" He whispered.

"Do you know how to ride a horse?"

"What?"

"You rode a horse in my dream. Do you really know how?" Stepping back into the room, Joseph leaned against the doorframe.

"I do know how. We have much more use for riding in the country than we do here in Boston." Suppressing yet another yawn, Michaela struggled to stay awake.

"Will you teach me?"

"One day I'll teach you to ride a horse, but not tonight."

Smiling, content with her father's answer Michaela snuggled back down into her warm bed. "Ok, goodnight."

"Goodnight."

_There you go guys! Yay for chapter 9 and on to chapter 10. I only hope I feel a little better so I can give you a little more of an entertaining chapter next Friday. ;)_


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The loud screech of the chair leg grinding against the hard wood flooring of Miriam Hathwell's bedroom echoed through the house sending chills down Michaela's spin and forcing her to stop tugging at the chair. Standing straight in order to stretch her aching back, Michaela turned to judge the distance of how far she had left to get the chair from where it was now to the little space under the window where their 'house' was going to sit. It was quite a ways. Grumbling her frustration, she jerked at the chair once again; the same screech filled the room.

"Ah!" Michaela cried at the irritating screech.

"Oh wait until I can help you. Mother will be so angry if we scratch my floor up." Miriam entered the room and dropped her toy tea set off on the foot of the bed.

"Ok, you take the back I'll take the front." As the two girl maneuvered around the piece of furniture they remained unaware of the two older figures that stopped in the doorway watching them intently. "Ok on my count. Ready? One. Two. Three." As Michaela spoke the last time, she grunted as she lifted the heavy chair into her arms. Slowly the girls began to move in one motion toward the designated space, but barely three steps later Miriam lost her grip on the back section of the chair. Unaware of Miriam's problems, Michaela continued to move backwards, throwing the chair off balance and causing it to pitch toward her. Unprepared to catch the entire weight of the chair, Michaela fell backwards and the chair quickly followed.

"Oof." She landed with a thud.

"Michaela, are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Michaela harrumphed from under the chair. Sticking her head out from under the space between where the back of the chair and the seat meat the floor, Michaela batted at the hair that had fallen in front of her face. Only then did she become aware of the laughing from the doorway. "What are you two doing there?" She mumbled in dismay, her cheeks reddening at the thought of having been seen.

"I think we could say the same thing about you." Robert chuckled from where he leaned against the doorway. He looked so smug, so haughty as he stood there, grinning from ear to ear and looking down at her. He only served to flare Michaela's temper even more. "Well?" Robert reasked his question and waited for a response.

"Come on Robert. Let's leave them alone." David chuckled, shaking his head. He caught his friend by the forearm as he turned from the room.

"No, Dave. Let's hear it. What could my little sister and her friend possibly be doing with that attempt at moving a chair?"

Michaela crawled hands and knees out from under the chair, her skirt bunching around her ankle and impeding her movements. Unglamorously clamoring to her feet she batted at the wrinkles in her dress and tried to pull herself as tall as possible. She hadn't been physically hurt in her tumble, but just knowing that Robert was there to see it all had severely bruised her ego.

"I don't believe it's any of your business." She replied matter of factly with hands on hips and staring at the older boy through lowered brows.

"We were just going to make a house with the chairs." Miriam replied from her place behind the fallen obstacle. Michaela rolled her eyes and blushed mortified at her friend's admittance and the way the older boys laughed.

"Miriam!" Michaela cried.

"I'm sorry. It's the truth."

"A house huh?" Robert chuckled. His eyes were sparkling and condescending. "Aren't you two a little too old to be playing house?"

"Come on Robert." David tried once again to avert his friend's attention. In all honesty, he felt sorry for Michaela and Miriam. Robert never seemed to let up.

"We're ten, Robert." Michaela answered through gritted teeth. "It's perfectly fine for us to play whatever we want."

"Oh right." Robert let in, nodding his head. "I forgot you two are still babies."

_Babies_? Where on earth did he get off calling them babies? Michaela felt heat rise through her body and tinge the tops of her ears as she clutched her hands to her side. She was embarrassed, mortified really. She hated the feeling that someone was laughing at her, that someone thought she was a child. She wasn't a baby. She was growing up. She went to the theater and the ballet and she got to watch some of her father's surgeries. Heaving a deep breath Michaela let out a frustrated sigh.

"For your information…"

"Yea, yea, we know. You're going to be a doctor." Robert waved her off as he turned to where David had relocated himself. "Go on and play with your little fantasies. Don't forget that Dr. Quinn's coming to pick you up for lunch in an hour."

"They are not fantasies!" Michaela cried in frustration. To this, she got no reply; Robert merely turned from his place at the end of the steps and laughed. Even David couldn't fight his amusement this time. Humiliated, Michaela didn't know what to do. Reaching for the door, she slammed it shut with all her strength. Leaning against it, she could still hear the laughter echo down the hallway. Michaela fought not to cry.

* * *

Michaela stared down at her tea glass as she listened to the clicking of silverware against dishes radiating from each table of diners at the outside café.

"The surgery was ultimately a success, even with the complications present." Joseph's voice faded away as he watched his daughter intently. She hadn't spoke for nearly fifteen minutes. Realizing the absence of her father's gentle voice at the other end of the table, Michaela looked up and shot him a quick little smile before reaching for the thoroughly examined tea glass and taking a sip.

"That's good that the surgery went well."

"It did. I'm sorry that you couldn't see it but with emergencies such as those it would have been difficult to get to you quickly."

Michaela sighed, "That's alright, I understand." She took a bite of her salad.

"All right Mike, what's the matter?" Joseph laid down his fork in frustration and looked up at his daughter. Half an hour ago, when he had picked Michaela up from the Hathwell residence to spend lunch with her before he had to return to work she had been less than excited. When he had asked her if she was feeling all right, she merely nodded her head. Now, she seemed uninterested about his morning surgery and what the afternoon held in store for him and that was the final straw. Something was wrong.

"I'm fine Father, really."

"No you're not. Are you feeling ill? Perhaps I need to ask Dr. Stevens to take my shift at the hospital this weekend so you can be at home."

"No really. You're suppose to work this weekend and Miriam and I have already planned tons of activities to play. I'm feeling well. It's just…" Michaela trailed off, hesitant to speak what it was she had been thinking all afternoon.

"Just what Mike?" Joseph sat his glass down on the table as he turned his direct attention to his little girl, observing the way she seemed to debate whether or not to speak.

Taking a deep breath, Michaela's words came out in a jumble. "Do you think I'm a baby?" As she spoke, her eyebrows drew together the way any child's did when they truly concerned with a question.

Joseph, misunderstanding the question and therefore why it seemed to bother Mike so much merely chuckled and covered her hand with his own. "My dear, you will always be my baby girl not matter what. There's no need to worry about that." He winked at her, the same way he often did when he tried to make her feel better, but this time his words had little effect on her. Michaela merely tried to force a smile against her disappointment.

"Well, that's good to know." She said lightly, stabbing at a lettuce leaf with her fork.

"Come now, enough of this nonsense. I must be getting you back to the Hathwell's before long. Would you like dessert?" Michaela thought for just a moment as she chewed on the last of her salad. Chocolate cake did sound good, but…

"Why don't we take a walk instead? Through the park?"

Joseph smiled to know that she was feeling a little better. Quite satisfied that he had put all her fears to ease, he laid some money on the table and rose from his seat. "A walk you shall have my dear, but we must be quick. I must be back to work in twenty minutes or so."

* * *

Michaela's afternoon with her father came to an eventual end and she inevitably returned to Miriam's house for the weekend. Toward the end of lunch, she had managed to lighten her mood just a bit, feeling bad for being so unresponsive to her father, but as hard as she tried she simply couldn't deny the gnawing worry at the back of her mind. Of all the people out there, certainly her father truly didn't see her as a child, and yet he himself said he did. Bothered by this fact, Michaela tried to reexamine herself. Perhaps she was acting like a child. After a long afternoon of thinking while she half-heartedly played whatever game Miriam chose for them she ultimately came to one conclusion. She was not a child and what's more is that she had to find a way to make everyone around her see her as the young lady she was. That included Robert.

"Michaela? Michaela!" A lacy pillow launched itself across the room and hit Michaela in the head. Startled from her thoughts, she realized that she had been staring out the window.

"Wha…? Miriam why are you throwing things at me?"

"Because I'm trying to tell you about Cara's birthday party." Miriam sighed in frustration, not missing the way Michaela seemed to stare back at her blankly. "Where are you this afternoon?"

Michaela sighed, and, taking one last glance out the window, stood and made her way over to where her friend was sitting on the bed. She paced back and forth at the foot before stopping mid motion and turning to look at Miriam, arms crossed and eyes blazing. "I've given it a lot of thought Miriam."

"What?" Miriam was slightly confused by her friend's sudden seriousness.

"We're not babies." Michaela was dead serious as if stating a fact known to all, a grand revelation.

"Are you still stuck on that?"

"It's the truth. We're just as adult as Robert and David."

"Please, Mike. It's not as if Robert meant anything by it. He calls me a baby all the time." Miriam rolled her eyes. _Why did this bother her so much?_

"And you just let him?" Michaela was appalled.

"What can I do?"

"You can prove to him that you're not a baby. That you're just like everyone else."

Miriam sighed and tilted her head to one side. "How exactly do I do that?" For once, she caught her friend without an answer. She watched as Michaela's mouth opened, and shut again before she sat down in frustration.

"Ok so I don't know yet, but I'll figure something out."

"Mike this really isn't that important."

"Yes, it is!" Michaela exclaimed getting excited once more. "Do you think George Washington just let the king of England call him a baby? No. He fought back and others helped him and in the end they formed their own country, and I bet the king thought twice about making America mad after that."

Miriam just stared at her friend. She loved Michaela, she really did, but sometimes she could be so weird. The strangest things bothered her and she rarely let them go until she fixed the problem. Oh, and if anybody ever asked her why she was bothered so much, she always talked about all of these people that no one had ever heard about before and what they did. Most of the time Miriam just ignored her, or better yet tried to distract her, it was the latter course of action she attempted now.

"Can we wait until after tea to take on the world? I'm ready for a snack." Sliding off the edge of the bed, Miriam made her way to the door and paused for a split second. Watching the disappointment spread across Michaela's face, Miriam got an idea. In an instant, her eyes lit up and she grinned slyly. "First one down stairs has to take tea to the boys." Dashing out of the room, Miriam heard Michaela's groan of frustration as she ran to catch up.

* * *

Robert bent over the chess set, eyes scanning intently over the pieces. He simply couldn't believe it would be this easy. Hesitantly, he moved his queen, gracefully sliding it up to where the white king lay trapped. "Check mate." He finally said looking up rather satisfied with himself. "Really, David, you didn't even try." David sighed and just shook his head, staring at his defeat. He simply wasn't on his game this afternoon.

"I'm sorry, Robert. My mind must be somewhere else." Standing to stretch his legs, David made his way over to the window.

"I'll say. Beating you was like playing with my sister."

Turning to sit in the windowsill, David crossed his arms across his chest as he enjoyed the warm sunlight filter through and dance across his back. "Don't you think you were a little hard on them this afternoon?"

"Me?" Robert shook his head. "I tease Miriam all the time. She knows I don't mean it."

"I'm talking about Michaela."

"Oh, come on. Tell me it isn't fun to watch her temper flare." Robert laughed. "She's something; she's got spirit and it's amusing."

David merely frowned. "I have a feeling this is going to come back to bite you, Robert."

"What can she do? She's only ten." Robert laughed once more, reclining back in his chair.

Almost as if on cue, a small, thin frame turned the corner into the drawing room carrying a silver tray. Michaela made little motion to smile at the boys as she made her way across the room and sat the tray on the table across from Robert.

"Your tea, _sir_." She said, eyes narrowing at the older boy.

"Oh and what's this? You've come with a peace offering?" Robert smirked.

"I have not."

"It's more like she lost a race." Miriam giggled from the doorway. Michaela merely shot her friend a distasteful look. _You're not helping._

Robert laughed aloud. "Well, then if my dear sister won the race I believe it is up to me to allow her to enjoy her victory. Would you be so kind, Miss Quinn, to pour us our tea?"

Michaela met Robert's stare eye for eye. She would not back down, nor would she let him know he was getting to her. She wasn't a baby.

"You don't have to Michaela." David spoke up from the window, finding something uncomfortable in the fact of Robert asking the girl to serve them. When she turned to him, however, he was taken aback by the determination in her eyes and the sweet smile that played on her lips.

"No, David that's all right. I don't mind. Do you take your tea with one or two sugars?" David merely fell silent, and Michaela felt her anger at the two boys dissipate slightly. She wasn't mad at David. He hadn't done anything to her. In fact, hadn't done anything but try to get Robert to let up. Tilting her head to one side, she repeated her offer, this time with true sincerity. "Really, I don't mind."

David's eyes shifted from the young girl standing in front of him to his friend and back. "Just a little milk please." He mumbled under his breath and watched as Michaela happily complied.

"You see David? She's learning." He smiled condescendingly. "I'd like a little cream and sugar please."

Not speaking a word, Michaela merely complied with his wishes as well. When she turned to him, holding out the teacup, she simply smiled. Robert took the false sense of security and chuckled back.

"You know Michaela, I believe I was wrong. You're not going to be a baby for much longer if you keep learning tasks like these." He smiled broadly, hoping to see the next words hit their mark. "I think one of these day you're going to make someone a wonderful wife."

In a split second, Michaela's eyes darkened, and she pulled back on the teacup in her hand. Had he just implied…? Michaela felt her anger flare again, heating her from the tips of her toes all the way to the top of her ears. She did simply the first thing she could think of; the first thing she knew would make her feel better. Taking a step to where Robert sat, she offered the tea glass once more, but just as he reached out to take it, she pitched forward, spilling the hot tea into his lap.

A burst of laughter from David accompanied Robert's yelp of surprise. Jumping to his feet, he turned on Michaela.

"Look what you did, you squirt!"

Michaela merely stared back at him and frowned. Feigning a sigh of disappointment, she shook her head. "Maybe I am still a baby. Huh, better not let babies fix your tea the next time." It took every ounce of strength in her body not to smile.

"Oh, you… you…" completely at a loss of words, and in slight discomfort from the hot liquid running down the front of his trousers, Robert could find only the strength to shake his finger in her face. "This is war!" He yelled at her, but she wasn't taken back.

"You're on!" She cried, finally letting herself have the pleasure of smiling before turning and racing out of the room.

"Oh, you'll be sorry for this!" Robert cried after her, watching his wide-eyed sister disappear in the doorway as well. Still hearing the bellowed of laughter coming from his right, Robert looked to his friend and scowled. "What are you laughing at?" David managed to catch his breath long enough to answer the question.

"You, being duped by a ten year old girl." He had to give it to her. Michaela was a spitfire, and nothing short of entertaining.

_Wow, the drama. Haha, ok guys there's ten. These next few weekends are going to be really busy, so I'm not sure how many promises I can make on the updates for the next few weeks. I'll see you at the end!_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

All truces held until the next morning, but all who woke in the Hathwell home early Saturday felt the heaviness that filled the rooms. What were they planning? Miriam, for one took comfort in the fact that she was not implicated in this war in any way. She didn't have to worry about anything, but she knew her brother. Robert was smart and sneaky. He could manage just about anything the moment Michaela let her guard down. However, no one could hold a grudge like Michaela, and Miriam knew better than anyone else did that her friend could do just about anything she set her mind on. To the little girl caught in the middle she couldn't have found two better opponents than her brother and her best friend.

Michaela on the other hand wasn't near as calm. From the moment her feet hit the floor, she was on the lookout. She looked behind all doors before she entered the room, she refused to turn her back from the wall, and she most certainly refused to eat or drink anything that Kelly, the Hathwell's maid did not give her directly. However, as of right now, nothing had happened and it was already midmorning.

"Maybe he decided to let it slip." Miriam suggested from where she sat on the drawing room sofa. She had her legs propped up on the little ottoman and was playfully tugging at the curls of her favorite doll. Michaela, merely looked up from her spot next to the window, the precise place she had been all morning.

"Since when does Robert let anything slip?"

"If he hasn't done anything by now, I highly doubt he's has anything planned."

Michaela bounced her knees anxiously. She was actually bored, very bored. Perhaps Miriam was right and Robert had just forgotten it all. "I'm not sure I trust him." Michaela muttered, scanning the room with suspicious eyes. Everything looked normal, but looks could be deceiving. Miriam sighed.

"Well, if you're going to do this all weekend we're not going to have much fun."

"You're right, I'm sorry." Standing, Michaela tried to shrug off the feeling that she was being watched and made her way over to the piano. "Would you like to hear something special?" She asked, bending over a table of music. "I think playing my keep my mind off things."

"Um…it doesn't matter. Pick something pretty."

Michaela shuffled around the papers until she finally settled on a song. Setting it on the piano, she pulled the stool back and lifted the lid. Scanning her eyes over the first few notes, she played the keys softly in her mind before placing her fingers on the keys. She nodded a few times, in rhythm to what was singing in her head and finally, when she was ready, she placed fingers to ivory keys and began her song.

What would usually have been beautiful music, though, didn't last long. Within the first few notes, Michaela had lost all concentration as her hands came down hard on the keys. "Ah!" She cried, lifting her palms up to examine the wet, sticky feeling that incased her skin. Bright white paint smeared across her palms and glistened in the morning light. Michaela merely stared down horrified at the mess, mouth agape until the soft snickering came to her ears. Brows lowering, she dashed to the doorway in time to see a figure run into the next room. "Robert Hathwell you'll be sorry for this!" She cried after him.

"What's wrong?" Miriam asked, coming to stand next to her friend. When she saw Michaela's white palms, it was all she could do not to outright laugh. Judging by the look on Michaela's face, her friend didn't find this too funny. "So that's what we've been waiting for. We can play now and not worry anymore." She reasoned, just in time to see Michaela's eyes narrow. She could almost see the wheels turning in the other girl's head.

"Not likely. It's our turn now." Turning to look at her friend, Michaela smiled a mischievous grin and waved her palms in the air. "Come on. Help me wash my hands. I have a plan."

* * *

Robert, still laughing from his joke, retreated to the safety of his own chamber, quite pleased with all his accomplishments. It had been wonderful, satisfying even, to see Michaela's face as she realized she was covered in white paint. He found it almost impossible not to laugh when he heard her cry out in frustration, realizing that she'd been trick and knowing that he was still around watching. Shutting the door behind him, he stifled a sigh of pleasure. That was the perfect comeback for the tea spill the day before. Michaela would certainly think twice the next time she decided to cross him.

Shooting a glance to the clock, Robert mentally calculated the time until David came to study. He still had a good few hours, and that was plenty of time to catch up on some of the sleep he missed plotting his revenge, but now all was clear and he could let his guard down. Sitting on the sofa that stretched the length of the window, he stretched his legs across the soft cushions. Grunting, as he got comfortable he shifted his back against the sofa and closed his eyes. A soft smiled played across his face as he began to drift off to sleep.

Robert didn't sleep long, perhaps only half an hour before a pounding on the door woke him from his calming sleep. At first, he was slightly startled, not sure, what he was doing on the sofa or what time of day it was. As he slowly became aware of the constant tapping, he finally managed to pull himself into a sitting position.

"Just a minute." He shouted at the visitor on the other side of the door, pressing his thumbs against his throbbing temples. Midmorning naps were never a good idea. No matter how good they felt at the time, they usually resulted in a headache. With a sigh signifying more effort than what it actually took, Robert lifted himself into a standing position and moved to the door.

"Oh, it's you." He said, letting his demeanor drop as he laid eyes on Michaela's glowing face. "What do you want?"

Michaela merely scowled at him and clicked her tongue. "What a greeting that was. Not even a 'hi how are you this morning' or an 'I hope you got your hands washed alright.'" Robert rolled his eyes. When he didn't say anything Michaela continued. Bringing her hand out from behind her back, she lifted a book to his eyes. "I actually had a question." Opening the book, she flipped to a certain page and then looked up, her inquisitive eyes masking an inner delight. She began to read, "If John had twelve shillings, and Mark had sixteen and they both had twelve percent less than William, how many shillings does William have." Snapping the book shut, she returned her gaze to him. "How do you do percents?"

"Alright what's the catch?"

"Catch? There's no catch, Robert." Michaela laughed. "I just was reading this book I found and I was curious." She held up the front cover. Robert frowned. It was his accounting book. Somehow, he wasn't sure that he wanted Michaela with his accounting book.

"Hey, that's mine."

"Your name wasn't written on it."

"Come on now, Mike. Give it back." He reached to take the book out of her grasp, but she stepped out of reach.

"Why? Everyone's entitled to education. It's not like I'm going to happen to drop it into the fire place or anything." If Robert had known Michaela more than he did, he would have realized that she indeed never would have truly considered destroying the book, or damaging it in anyway. The thought of that was just too horrible for her. She always had a special friend in each page she read. Destroying a book was like erasing a story from existence. The thought was too sad. However, fortunately for Michaela, Robert didn't pick up on her bluff and so as he made to reach for the book one more time, she merely smiled.

"What don't you just give me the book?"

"Why don't you come here and take it?"

Robert, losing all his patients, made to move toward her and in doing so found himself in quite the dilemma. As he took one-step, he found that his foot did not land where he intended to place his weight and in an attempt to catch himself, he couldn't seem to move either of his feet. Tumbling to the floor, Robert landed with a thud, and a dull ache radiated through his knees and palms.

Still stunned from his trip, Robert struggled to move his legs that seemed to be tied together. Looking down he saw his limbs tangled in a cord that had apparently been strung across the bottom of the doorframe. Groaning, he fell back onto the floor. Once again, he had been defeated. How embarrassing.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Michaela standing over him. She wasn't laughing, or smiling; she just stood there and watched him. "Here's your book." She mumbled dropping it on the center of his chest before turning to walk off.

* * *

It was nearing one in the afternoon when Miriam and Michaela entered the well-furnished dining room for lunch. Mrs. Hathwell was already sitting at the head of the table, breathing heavily as she waited for the meal to begin.

"Why there you are. I was afraid you might have forgotten lunch." Miriam merely blushed. They _had _lost track of time, but she really didn't want to have to make any excuses.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Hathwell. We were got busy playing and forgot about eating." Michaela intervened shooting a warning glance to her friend. Miriam merely kept her mouth shut.

"Well, I suppose it's alright. I'm sure I used to do that as a child, but it's important for you two to learn how to keep an eye on your time. Believe it or not there will be a day when you must make sure everything in your household runs smoothly and on time." Miriam nodded observantly at yet another of her mother's lectures while Michaela merely stared at the sandwiches sitting before them. She hadn't realized just how hungry she was. Heaving another sigh, Mary Hathwell turned her attention to yet another problem. "Where on Earth is Robert. It's past time to start lunch."

Michaela, with her head down and her hands fiddling with the linen napkin in her lap answered her. "Oh, he said he wasn't hungry and that we should start without him." She had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from laughing.

"Well if he said that…" Mrs. Hathwell quickly complied, motioning for the housemaid to begin to serve them. "Have you girls had a fun afternoon?" Both girls turned their attention to the end of the table where the older woman was sitting, but their eyes didn't stay trained on her at all. Michaela, who was taking a sip of water at the time nearly choked on the liquid and was left gasping for breath. Doubling over, she took several deep breaths to calm herself.

"Good heavens, whatever is the matter?" Miriam's mother asked, eyebrows raised and making no motion to aid the girl in her discomfort.

"Nothing." Michaela struggled to answer as tears accumulated in her eyes. "It just went down the wrong way." She shifted her attention to Miriam who had turned bright red and sat dumbstruck. As the girls' eyes locked, their lips curled into a sly smile. Oh how wicked it was not to be able to laugh! Miriam risked one more stare out the window before turning back to her lunch.

Two long legs could be seen in the view of the window, lowering down from above. First came two black shoes, then cuffs, then pants legs, lowering inch by inch, bit by bit into the view of all in the dining room, save Mrs. Hathwell who was sitting with her back to the window. Then suddenly, the methodical descent was disrupted by a loud crack and a black mass tumbled, shoes and all to the ground leaving nothing more than a shivering bush as sign of his presence. Miriam snorted only to receive a glaring look from her mother.

A few minutes later, there was a ring at the door, and not long after that, Robert entered the dining room. He was a mess. His black suit was dirty and wrinkled. His thick black hair was mussed and sticking out at odd angles and there was a patch of dirt on his cheek.

"Oh Robert, Michaela told us you weren't hungry this afternoon." Mary Hathwell cried as she saw her son enter the room, completely oblivious as to his appearance.

Robert forced a smile. "I wasn't hungry at first," he threw a regarding look to Michaela who was looking rather pleased with herself, "but after a bit I realized that some lunch would do me some good." He bowed his head slightly to his mother before he took a seat next to Michaela. He glanced around the table, and noticed the wide-eyed stare of his little sister. She sat properly across the table discreetly brushing at her hair while staring at him. Catching the clue, he ran his fingers through his hair, pulling away a leafy twig, evidence of his tumble from outside.

Neither Robert nor Michaela spoke to one another; they just ate side by side in perfect silence. While Mary prattled on to Miriam, who was forced to listen, there was a quick exchange of glances. Robert tapped on the table nonchalantly and Michaela, while sipping her water, laid a little brass key on the linen covered surface. Covering the parcel in his own hand, Robert slipped it into his pocket.

A few hours ago, after his trip upstairs, Robert had set about extracting revenge on Michaela. Much to the little girl's horror, when she returned from a midmorning walk outside she sat down to read only to discover the pages of her book glued shut. Furious at Robert, it took Miriam's calming down to keep Michaela from doing anything rash. Instead, she sat down and summed up another plan.

It hadn't been hard to lock Robert in his room. After all, the key was still in the lock. All Michaela had to do was get the door shut. She was going to let him out after supper, she really was, but he beat her to it. He had found his own way out, and for that, Michaela had to give him credit.

After lunch, Michaela immediately began preparing for the retaliation, but David showed up prepared to study. Perhaps this was why Michaela let her guard down, though looking back she could see the foolishness of that decision. Why didn't she think that Robert would try anything with David around?

Nothing really did happen, at first. There were some six hours of calm. Michaela and Miriam went outside to spend the afternoon playing tag or dolls or whatever they could imagine. Robert and David stayed in the drawing room and studied in their books. It was closer to seven o'clock when everyone began to flock inside to begin preparations for dinner. They would all need to wash and redress before the meal began.

"I won!" Michaela cried as she ran up the steps, only to pause outside the doorway to Miriam's bedroom. She turned and waited for her friend to come pulling breathlessly up the stairs.

"Only because you cheated." Miriam reasoned, finally managing to pull herself to the top of the stairway and stopping to take a deep breath. Michaela looked appalled.

"I did not."

"Fine. Have it your way if you'd like to believe that you've won one your own abilities." Miriam paused for a split second and stared at the stubborn girl standing before her. Michaela, staring back at her friend, couldn't find it within her not to laugh and as she chuckled Miriam joined in, not taking herself seriously. "Come on we only have half an hour to dress for dinner." She said through her laughter, motioning for Michaela to lead them through the cracked door to her bedroom.

Neither girl thought anything strange in the way the door was cracked ever so slightly, nor did they consider the fact that when they went outside they had shut the door firmly behind them. Therefore, it was a complete surprise when Michaela pushed on the door to gain entrance to the room and was instantly soaked by a bucket of ice water. Fortunately, Miriam had managed to stand far enough back that she hadn't gotten wet, but poor Michaela wasn't near as lucky. Shocked, Michaela stood rigidly straight, mouth gaping open unable to breathe. Then, laughter filled the room, not from Michaela or Miriam, but from Robert.

"You… you jerk!" Michaela cried out infuriated, tears immediately springing to her eyes. Robert made no effort to stop.

The loud noises were enough to attract David's attention, who was in the next room. Curious as to what was going on he headed up the hallway only to find this very scene before him. Miriam was just now coming to her friend's side, and, alarmed, David made to follow her movement.

"Are you alright?" He asked, bending over by Michaela. She shot him a glance and he could see the tears of embarrassment and anger welling in her eyes before she hastily turned from him.

"I'm fine." She muttered, stepping into the room.

"Aw, did I hurt your feelings?" Robert teased, standing from the chair he had been waiting in. Michaela refused to look at him, and only Miriam glared in his direction. It was David, however, who actually said anything.

"Come on, Robert. Let's leave them be."

"But David have you ever…"

"Robert!" David called his name harshly. "Let's let them dress for dinner in peace." Leaving nothing more to be said, David simply turned from the doorway and headed down the hall. Robert, for the first time all day felt slightly ashamed and without sending another glance to the girls quickly followed behind him.

* * *

Half an hour later, the girls descended the stairs in time for dinner. Robert and David were waiting on them. In the time since his practical joke, Robert had grown more mortified over his actions. Although he wasn't sure what to do, he was feeling the direct pressure from David to apologize to Michaela. It was, after all as David said, a childish joke that got out of hand.

Now, as Robert paced back and forth at the bottom of the stairs, he was struggling to decide on what to say. Would I'm sorry suffice, or would she want something more? Robert sure what he was doing, and so when he saw the girls appear he felt his stomach into his chest. He hated apologizing, admitting he was wrong. It was humiliating. As he watched Michaela transverse the stairs, he made his way to where they stood and offered his hand helped them down.

Michaela, startled by the gesture, took the offered hand, but when she stepped of the stairs was perplexed to find that Robert didn't let go.

"Miss Quinn," he sighed her name and she prepared herself for what she knew would follow. "I have thought it over and greatly regret my actions of earlier today. I would be most willing if you accepted my quest for forgiveness and allowed us to start anew." Robert bowed deeply, almost comically playing on his position. Michaela, however, was not amused. Setting her jaw, she sifted her gaze from David, who was rolling his eyes, to Miriam who was smiling widely.

"Thank you, no. I don't believe a truce is necessary." Michaela shifted, pulling her hand from his grasp and moving to stand next to Miriam. Robert, clearly flustered, rose from his position and shot David a look, but found no sympathy. Miriam just looked baffled at her friend.

"Why ever would you do a thing like that? He rarely ever apologizes for anything."

Michaela scoffed. "Like I'm going to take a truce now." Miriam merely shook her head. Michaela didn't know how good she almost had it.

And so the four children waited devoid of all conversation for Mrs. Hathwell's descent to the foyer so that they could start dinner together. Throughout the course of the meal, Mrs. Hathwell never realized that anything was wrong amongst the children, but the scullery maid did. When, after the meal was over, she noticed an extra piece of chocolate cake was missing from the tray.

* * *

The doorbell rung early Sunday morning as everyone was preparing for church, everyone except Michaela who ran screeching to the door. Bypassing the proper custom of waiting for the butler to see to the guest, Michaela threw the door wide open.

"Father!" She threw her arms around the familiar gruff neck, enjoying the sound of his laughter as he swung her into the air.

"My Mike, my Mike. How was your weekend? All went well?"

Michaela nodded. "All went just as planned." She grinned at the double meaning of her own words.

Stepping into the foyer, Joseph shut the door behind him. He made note of the little valise sitting tidily on the bench next to the door.

"Oh Dr. Quinn!" Mary Hathwell's singsong voice drifted into the foyer before she even made her way down the stairs. She was followed closely by Miriam who was snickering. "I must say that your daughter is the absolutely the most charming girl I've ever met." Coming to the bottom of the steps, she stopped before the father and daughter and offered her hand, which the Dr. promptly took, and bending, allowed his lips to linger the customary few inches before releasing his hold.

While the adults made pleasantries, Miriam scooted next to Michaela and whispered in her ear. "Robert just made it to the closet when I came down stairs. He was getting ready to put his shoes on." Michaela clasped her hand over her mouth in an effort to suppress her giggles.

"I hope we're gone by the time he makes it downstairs." For Michaela, this would be the ultimate finale, the perfect practical joke, but knowing how things would go down, she had no desire to be here when everything culminated.

Cackling laughter came from the adults standing next to them, well actually it only came from Mrs. Hathwell. Michaela rolled her eyes at the sight. Apparently, something her father had said had been somewhat funny and now, Miriam's mother took prime opportunity to toss her head back. With a chubby hand pressed firmly to her jolly bosom, she laughed unabashedly, except for the fact that it sounded forced. She sounded like a chipmunk. Joseph shifted his weight onto another foot, trying not to let his discomfort show.

This was nothing new. Mary Hathwell had set her sights on Joseph Quinn long ago. He was a handsome, well-educated bachelor of the upper crust Bostonian Society. What woman wouldn't want someone like that? However, it seemed that just as Mary managed to come up with a way for them to be in close proximity to one another, he always found an excuse to leave, and for that, Michaela was eternally grateful. The harsh truth was that Mrs. Hathwell grated on the girl's nerves and it only got worse the more time she spent with the Dr. Michaela had no desire to spend more time with the woman that what was immediately necessary and, judging by the look on her father's face, neither did he.

"I must thank you so much, Mrs. Hathwell for allowing Michaela to stay here for the weekend. I'm sure she enjoyed her time here." Joseph smiled and nodded gratefully. "However, I'm afraid we'll have to be heading home soon." Joseph restrained himself as he watched the disappointment spread across the face before him. Only a few more moments he had to stand here and exchange pleasantries.

"Well, let me send Samuel to take Michaela's valise to the carriage."

"Oh no, that's alright. It's such a small matter I'll manage it myself." Joseph smiled sincerely as he moved to retrieve the valise. As the door opened and Joseph and Michaela started for their carriage they were almost home free, but a growl of frustration rolled down the stairs stopping everyone in their tracks.

"Michaela Quinn you've done it now!" Michaela felt her heart stop as Robert stopped at the top of the stairs socks and shoes in hand. As soon as he saw the foyer of people, though, he instantly blushed. He hadn't realized anyone else was there.

"Robert Hathwell, is that anyway to talk to our guest? Whatever is the matter?"

Robert stumbled over his words and shifted uncomfortable under the stare of the two adults while Miriam simply stared wide-eyed at Michaela.

"Um… uh… it's nothing."

"No, Robert please. What has happened?" Joseph, this time interceded, his eyes narrowing on the shoes in the boy's hand. The black shoes were filled with something dark and green. At first, Joseph couldn't identify the matter. "What's that in your shoes?"

"Um… it's chocolate cake."

"Chocolate cake?" Joseph's eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"How on Earth did chocolate cake get into your shoes?" Mary asked befuzzled. At the time she struggled to understand this, Joseph shifted his gaze to his daughter who hadn't moved much less breathed since Robert's outburst. She was beet red with wide-eyes and her jaw clench tight. Instantly, Joseph knew he needed no more questions.

"Yes, how on Earth." He whispered. Michaela heard his words and turned her alarmed gaze to him. "Mrs. Hathwell, again I must thank you." Taking Michaela by the hand, Joseph turned for the door.

Joseph's grip on Michaela told her that she would not likely be getting out of this quickly, and yet when they entered the carriage he said nothing. The two of them just sat across from one another. Joseph stared aimlessly out the window and Michaela watched her hands intently. It was too much to wait. Never at any point during this weekend had she been ashamed of her actions, but now she had the shame of a hundred guilty men.

When the carriage came to a stop, Joseph got out first and turned to lift Michaela down. "I'll meet you in my office." He said lowly, almost whispered to her. In a daze, like a man lead to execution, Michaela dutifully made her way to his office and sat in one of the large leather chairs. She waited for him.

It had been nearly ten minutes when Joseph entered the little room and turned to shut the door behind him. Moving around the side of the chairs, he went straight for his desk. Taking out his pocket watch, he considered the surface before checking the time. His movement was slow and methodical when he unlatched the chain and laid it on the edge of his desk. When he spoke, it was calmly.

"Did you fill Robert Hathwell's shoes full of chocolate cake?" He didn't look at her.

Michaela debated her answer. Never would Joseph punished her if he thought she didn't do anything wrong, and he had always taken her at her word, but she had never lied to him and She couldn't now. Nodding her head softly she managed a simple "Yes."

"And why may I ask?"

Michaela took a deep breath. "He called me a baby!"

"Mike…"

"And then he painted the keys on the piano so it would turn my hands white, and then he glued the pages of my book shut and dumped ice water on me!"

"I'm not interested in what Robert did."

"But he did it first!" Michaela cried out. She was sniffling now, crying really, upset that she had done what she did and disappointed her father. All she wanted was to say the one thing that justified it in his eyes, but she couldn't.

"It does not matter who started it. It only matters who stops it."

"But he was so mean to me." Michaela sobbed. Joseph felt the hand in his pocket clench. He hated to watch her cry, but something like this could not go ignored. He tightened his jaw against the myriad of tears before him.

"Michaela, I have raised you much better than this. Surely I have taught you how to behave when you're a guest in someone else's home, have I not?" Michaela, noticing the way he used her full name only nodded which prompted and warning from her father. "Mike…"

"Yes sir. I suppose I forgot myself." Joseph nodded. Now for the punishment, he needed to choose something that fit the folly. Something to reiterate this lesson, to make her think if there ever were to be a next time, and knowing Michaela there would most certainly be a next time.

He cleared his throat before he spoke. "You will not be allowed to play with Miriam outside of school until after Christmas." Michaela only sniffled. That wasn't so bad, but what came next was much worse than she could ever imagine. "And you will write a letter of apology to Robert."

At the sound of this, Michaela's head shot up and she opened her mouth to protest, but upon seeing her father's raised hand and warning glare, she simply shut her mouth once more and nodded.

"Good then. You best go get ready for Mass now." With a simple dismissal, Michaela left the room wordlessly.

Once alone, Joseph collapsed into his office chair. His weekend had been long and tiring and the last thing he wanted to have to do when he got home was deal with a situation like that. He loved Michaela with his entire being. He loved watching her learn and grow and love, but sometimes the steps he had to take to teach her those lessons were the most unpleasant ever.

Reaching for the framed picture of his late wife, Joseph let his finger trace the smooth lines of her face. Sometimes he needed to speak with Elizabeth so badly. He wanted to sit and talk and have someone tell him that he was doing this right. Sometimes he simply felt so unsure of it all, but there was nothing he could do about that. He was in this alone, perhaps learning just as much as Michaela was. He could promise to forgive her mistakes as long as one day she managed to forgive his.

_Wow, what a chapter! That one took me forever to write, but I must say it's sort of fun! I hope you all enjoyed it. Please let me know what you thought!_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The garland was strung through the parlors of Ms. Peabody's ladies school, an exciting reminder of the Christmas season that was quickly approaching. The chilly autumn air had since become rather frigid, requiring the fires to be kept at a constant liveliness. In the back parlor, across from the piano, sat a rather large Christmas tree, decorated by the little treats each girl had made. It was always tradition that the Sunday before everyone went home for Christmas, they would adorn the tree with its final decoration, the star of Bethlehem and then light the candles. One of the senior girls would play the piano as they all joined in singing carols. Christmas was just so magical. It was most everyone's favorite time of the year. For some, the excitement was in the decorations and the warmth of a fire, for others it was about the Christmas carols, or the opportunity to go home for the first time in nearly three months, but for most, it was the anticipation of the annual Christmas ball.

The ball itself was always held on the Friday before everyone left for the holidays. All the girls were finished with their final exams before noon and the rest of the afternoon was spent preparing for the evening celebrations. The boys from St. Peter's Academy would arrive sometime around seven. Dinner would be served and then the dancing would commence. It was always the most fun of the year and each girl usually went home with dreams of their Christmas dance tucked away into their hearts.

Sarah loved Christmas. She loved everything about it. She loved the coldness of winter and the necessity of wrapping herself in a warm blanket at bedtime. She loved the taste of hot chocolate enjoyed on special late nights. She had adored Christmas Carols even as a small child and looked forward to singing them each year. Of course, there was the dance, but the thing that perhaps made her the most excited was getting to go home once more. The Clarkson family had grand traditions for Christmas morning and Sarah thought it sad that one day she may not be able to partake in those traditions, but for now, she was perfectly content.

Her demeanor reflected this solemnity as she sat back on the little sofa with a blanket laid over her lap. She was working intently on a handkerchief she was embroidering for her mother's Christmas present. After every few stitches, she would hold the garment up and out as to admire her work. Smiling to herself, Sarah couldn't wait to see how proud her mother would be that her skills were coming along so nicely.

After coming to a stopping point, Sarah laid the cloth in her lap and looked up across the room to where Marjorie was sitting in a wing-backed chair practicing her French. Judging by the look on her friend's face not all was going well.

"Not any better?" Sarah broke the silence, her rosy cheeks flushed by the heat of the fire. Marjorie grimaced as she shut her book.

"Not at all. I don't even want to think about it for now. My head hurts." She dropped the books off the side of the chair.

"Hello, ladies." A singsong voice (which Marjorie deemed entirely too happy for this time of night) came floating into the room. When they looked up, Lillian Driskell and Alanna Forsythe were wandering into the room. As usual the two girls were bright and cheery, the perfect porcelain dolls. Their skirts swayed just so with the movement of their steps and they seemed to glide perfectly across the floor. Marjorie thought they looked like puppets.

In all fairness, it must be recorded here that both Lillian and Alanna were beautiful, kind, sweet girls. They were always friendly to their classmates and offered help if anyone needed it, but they were, as most girls are, prone to bouts of pettiness. They were quite aware of the station of their fathers in society (after all that is how they managed to be at Ms. Peabody's was it not?) and they were fiercely loyal to their own dear friends- one of those friends of course being Kathleen Roberts.

Kathleen didn't have quite the genteel personality that her other friend's did. Well… that's not entirely true. She was quite amiable to most girls at Ms. Peabody's. However, from the very beginning there was something that clashed between Kathleen Roberts and Marjorie Quinn. Perhaps, it was the strong controlling personality each shared that was to be blamed, or maybe it was the simple fact that Kathleen understood Marjorie well enough to know which buttons to push in order to set her off. Whatever the case, the two girls rarely ever got along and, as a consequence, Marjorie rarely chose to deal with Kathleen or her friends.

Unfortunately, for Marjorie that wasn't truly an option today as the two girls came sauntering into the front parlor and took their seats with Sarah and Marjorie. Lillian leaned over and gazed at Sarah's work- a 'presumptive' move that annoyed Marjorie.

"Oh, that's absolutely gorgeous!" Lillian exclaimed. "May I?" In compliance, Sarah offered the delicately made garment over and beamed as she did so. "Oh, yes. Its darling, Sarah. Who's it for?"

"I'm making it for my mother." Sarah answered, blushing deeply.

"Your mother is going to love that." Alanna inserted, leaning over.

Somehow, during the discourse of the girls, Marjorie felt as though she had completely faded into the background. Did anyone even still remember she was sitting there? Straightening her posture, Alanna began to fill everyone in on her Christmas plans and the presents she had gotten each member of her family before turning her attention to each member of their little group. Soon Marjorie found six pairs of eyes staring expectantly at her. "What about you, Marjorie? Have you done your shopping yet?"

"Not really. I'll get my little sister a book and perhaps I'll buy my father a scarf." Marjorie had no desire to explain much further than that. Sarah was the only one who knew that when she decided to embroider the handkerchief for her mother, Marjorie set about an attempt to knit her father a scarf. The experiment was a horrendous failure, and Marjorie was left with a little money to buy the few Christmas items she had to give.

"Oh well, that's nice." Lillian answered, smiling sweetly. "Tell us about your little sister, Marjorie. Will she be joining us at the academy soon?"

It was a completely innocent question, one posed by someone who was interested in the life of the mysterious Marjorie Quinn. However, as the question left the lips of the unknowing and went jutting into the room, Sarah watched Marjorie's eyes narrow.

"She'll be turning eleven in February, but she goes to a girls school in Boston." Marjorie tried to make her answer as nondescript as possible.

"Oh, but you should convince her to come here. We'd have such a wonderful time with her if she's anything like you, Marjorie." Alanna replied, a little too excitedly. Marjorie, however merely frowned against the vigorously nodding heads.

"My sister is nothing like me." Marjorie felt a little satisfactions in the way the happy looked seemed to stall on the faces of the girls sitting across from her, and yet before she had to answer any more questions, the front door swung open and girlish giggles filled the room. Both Lillian and Alanna's eyes widened.

"Kathleen must be home. She went riding with one of the Saint Peter's boys this afternoon. He's quite fetching and is in line to inherit his father's steel industry." Lillian whispered as both she and Alanna rose to move to the entrance to the little parlor. Standing behind the door, they peered around the frame in order to catch a glimpse of the mysterious young man. Marjorie, rolled her eyes behind their backs, but Sarah, who would never lower herself to snooping at the door, craned her neck to see into the little room. The laughter was louder now, almost obnoxious if you were to ask Marjorie. The pleasantries didn't last long. Each could be heard saying their goodbyes and whispering about how pleasant the evening was. The unmistakable sound of the door shutting sent Lillian and Alanna rushing back to their seats.

As Kathleen entered the room, she paused at the door for just a moment and smoothed at her hair in an attempt to draw the attention, and questions of everyone in the room. Her intentions were only obvious to Marjorie. Lillian and Alanna looked as though they were sitting on pins and needles; they seemed to be void of the ability to actually sit still. After a moment or two, when it became apparent that Kathleen was not going to be the first to speak Lillian finally broke the silence.

"So, how was it?"

"Oh, it was absolutely so lovely." Kathleen sighed, floating into the room. "First he took me to a nice dinner, and then a carriage ride through town. Of course, Ms Jacobson was chaperoning, but we still had a good time. I feel like I can talk so easily with him." Kathleen's far away gaze matched the motion of her hands and they ran across her loose strands of hair.

"I imagine he is so romantic!" Alanna exclaimed falling back onto the cushioned sofa. Marjorie merely watched the scene through cynical eyes. How could those girls fall over one another like puppies clamoring for the food bowl?

"Oh he is!"

"Who is this again?" Marjorie interjected. If they were going to act this way, at least it must be over someone worthwhile. As Kathleen's icy eyes turned to Marjorie, she smiled slightly. In Kathleen's mind, the girls were always in competition. Marjorie was the one girl who would not bow down to her, and in fact would be likely to challenge her for her status amongst the girls who lived here. This new beau of hers would most definitely keep her above the other girls at Ms. Peabody's.

"It's Jason Carrington." Kathleen beamed her pride, but unfortunately for her, Marjorie could not hide her initial reaction.

"Jason Carrington? That pimply little nerd? Why I've heard that he has less social skills than a hermit crab. All this commotion is about him?" As soon as Marjorie heard the words leave her own mouth she mentally scolded herself, and yet the moment she saw the embarrassment flood Kathleen's cheeks her shame turned to pleasure. She watched as Kathleen, speechless, searched for a proper comeback. Lillian and Alanna sat with their mouths hanging open. Only Sarah seemed to fight against the smile that was tightening across her lips.

"Well, at least he's better that what you have right now." Kathleen finally found her voice. However, the desired effect of her words wasn't immediately felt by Marjorie. No, she didn't have a beau and that wasn't something that she had ever desired, but for some reason the retort began a dull ache deep inside her chest. Brushing off the comment, Marjorie merely shook her head.

"I'm perfectly fine with the way things are right now, thank you."

Kathleen's eye narrowed, "you thinks so now, but let's talk when you're old and alone." With nothing left to say, Kathleen turned and glided out of her room, her skirt swaying behind her.

* * *

Joseph opened the door to his Beacon Hill home and heard the familiar sound of fluttering piano notes dancing through the air. The pure and simple tune that was being played was perfect in its childlike simplicity reminding him of the beauty of what life can be. He had to admit that after such a hard day at work, even one such as today when he had lost a patient, coming home to such beautiful music was rather soothing.

It had been almost three weeks since Michaela have been forbidden from seeing Miriam and during that time Joseph had watched his daughter throw herself into her schoolwork making perfect grades in almost everything she did. She practiced the piano almost constantly, always playing when he returned home, and she had even started working a little harder on her sewing- a skill that Martha was instructing her in. In all, Michaela's life for the past few weeks had minimalized significantly. She of course, didn't see Miriam nor did she have any interest in seeing any other girls. She simply spent the days by herself. Joseph knew that had it been up to him, he never would have been able to let her do this for all three weeks. All she had to do was ask him to change his mind; he wasn't strong enough to say no. Yet, Michaela didn't ask, and so she continued trudging through her punishment, and she was almost done now. Marjorie would be home Monday in preparation for Christmas on Wednesday. It was a little over a week away.

The piano music continued to flutter through the foyer as Joseph entered and went to leave his bag and papers in his office before making his way into the morning room where he was sure to find Michaela strumming away at the keys.

The proud father stood quietly at the door, unobserved for several minutes, enjoying the sight of his youngest daughter. She was so proper, sitting erectly on the piano stool as her fingers danced over the top of the ivory keys to produce her music. She looked grown. Suddenly Joseph was aware of how very different this young lady was than on the day he first held her in his arms. He could remember every lesson she learned and every fall she had taken along the way. She was already ten years old and in another few years she would be leaving to go to school and embark on her own life. For just a moment, Joseph carried the intense desire to stop time in its tracks. As selfishly as it sounded, he didn't want Michaela to grow up and leave him. In the past five years, she had become his purpose in life, the reason he woke each morning. Yes, he enjoyed his job, but it was his life as a father that always seemed to the pinnacle of all his years.

In the few minutes that passed it seemed to be a struggle for him to let time start once more, to let it leave his finger tips and blow away as if it never existed. That was the remarkable thing about special moments. They always came and went as if nothing ever happened unless there was someone there to remember. Joseph wanted to remember.

Walking into the room, Joseph knelt next to Michaela and waited for her to finish her song. When it finally was over, he applauded substantially.

"Beautifully played my darling." Michaela merely blushed and closed the top of the piano. "How was your day today?"

"It was alright. I made an A on an arithmetic test."

"Well I'd say that's marvelous! Did you talk to Miriam today?" The question was meant to be an honest one, Joseph having not forbidden her from talking to her friend at school simply hadn't heard Michaela speak of her. However, he instantly knew that this was the wrong question to ask as Michaela stared at him blankly.

"No, I haven't spoken to her since I explained that I couldn't see her until after Christmas." Sighing, Joseph couldn't help but smile at her. Even without his knowledge she had done her best not to disobey him, and she never complained. Joseph couldn't help but wrap his arms around his little girl and pull her close.

"My dear, you are truly beautiful inside and out. Your honesty is admirable. What's wrong?" Joseph asked as he watched Michaela's eyes lower to her lap.

"I… um… well we've been writing notes back and forth, so we haven't exactly _not_ been talking."

Joseph chuckled and kissed her on the cheek. "I believe that the exception can be made," and yet her demeanor didn't change.

"I suppose that since I told you that I need to tell you that… that…" she took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. "There was a student from the boy's academy across the street who threw a mud pie at Callie Strickland and made her cry, and I chased him across the street because it wasn't fair that he didn't get punished. The headmaster caught me on the boy's property and told me that if I didn't leave his pupils alone that he was going to write our teacher and have him discipline me."

"Mike…" Joseph warned but stopped himself.

"I'm sorry, but Callie was crying and that boy just laughed!"

"You must learn to pick and choose your battles and learn how to fight them."

"Yes sir," and after sniffing. "Do you think Mr. Johnson would punish me?"

"Mr. Johnson's not going to punish you for something like that."

"But he made Janey stand in the corner last week just for talking during lessons."

"He's not going to put you in the corner, Mike."

"I hope not, because I can't think of anything more humiliating than having to stand in front of the classroom where everyone can see me and know that I did something wrong." Once again, Joseph had to laugh. If only that was the worst thing she'd ever face. Michaela's dim expression, however reminded him that it was never all right to laugh in the face of another's problems, no matter how trivial. Tilting his head to one side, he brushed her hair out of her face and studied her demeanor. Now wasn't the time for her to be upset, it was nearly Christmas, and besides she had spent far too much time alone the past few weeks. He needed to find a way to put a smile back on her face.

"I have an idea. How about we go out for dinner? Your choice." Joseph watched as Michaela's eyes light up as she scooted off the piano stool, eager have a night out.

"Can we go to Catalina's?" She asked, her serious gazed being replaced by a bright smile. Joseph's idea had hit its target.

"Of course."

"And take a walk through the park? I think the nativity may be up."

Joseph chuckled. Worries are rarely worth brooding over for more than a few moments. "And we can take a walk through the part. Is that permissible to you?" Michaela nodded vigorously. "Alright then, go and fresh up while I tell Martha our plans."

In a flash, Michaela had raced out of the room, leaving Joseph standing fingering her forgotten piano music. Just like a special memory fluttering against the erosion of time, it was as if she had never been there.

_So Chapter 12 was relatively short, but Christmas is coming! Yay! Let me know what you think guys!_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

The low throng of the brass bell signified the end of school. Each sound resonating was a signal of freedom, a reminder that the day long anticipated by all pupils had finally come. School was out for the holidays and would not resume until well after New Years. For most of the girls who poured from the front doors of the all girls academy, the last few hours of the day had been counted down to the precise minute of freedom, that was all they were waiting on, liberation from school and work. However, for two young ladies the last few hours was not just a countdown to the end of school, but also a countdown to the end of a punishment.

Miriam stood on the steps in front of the school, waving as all of her friends left for the holidays. She was waiting patiently, as patiently as she could in thirty-degree weather. The afternoon was overcast and freezing and yet she didn't mind. After Michaela came out they were going to do the last little bit of Christmas shopping they had left. They had coordinated the little shopping venture through notes over the past week and, after Michaela's father gave his permission, the girls looked forward to a fun afternoon together- their first in almost three weeks. Yet now the afternoon had ceased to begin because Michaela still hadn't made it from class. Miriam only hoped that something wasn't wrong.

A few more minutes waiting brought Michaela's form running from the building and hurling toward Miriam. Tackling her full force, Michaela wrapped her arms around her best friend and enjoyed the feeling that there was, once again, someone that loved her deeply in this world, someone she could share her problems with (if she had any at the moment) and know that they'd listen.

"Michaela!"Miriam cried hugging her friend fiercely. "I thought you were never coming out! What were you doing in there so long?" Michaela just shrugged off her excitement.

"Mr. Johnson said that my arithmetic is getting so good, he gave me another book to start on." Michaela patted at the side of her bag, feeling the new, shiny, unopened book press hard against her fingertips. In reality, she couldn't wait to get home to try it out, but she was going to do her best to enjoy her time with Miriam today. Deciding to change the subject, Michaela started to skip down the sidewalk. "So what are we doing this afternoon?"

"I thought we were shopping."

"We are, but who are we shopping for and for what are we looking?"

"Well, I still have to find something for Robert." At the sound of this Michaela's nose turned up a little.

"Oh," she sighed. "Did he ever get my letter?"

"He did. He thought it was very kind of you, but he said it was truly his fault. He never meant for you to get into trouble. He never would have said anything if he knew Dr. Quinn had already arrived."

Michaela nodded slightly, she had no doubt that everything Miriam said was true. No matter her horror at having to apologize, she felt slightly satisfied that Robert felt guilty. "It's alright, I suppose, all in the past." Miriam knew well enough to allow the subject to drop. She changed the direction of the conversation.

"What about you? Must you shop for Dr. Quinn's present?"

"No, I actually found his gift two weeks ago."

"Two whole weeks?" Miriam was impressed.

"Yes, aren't your proud? I found him the perfect new chain for his pocket watch. It's simply gorgeous. He's needed one for quite a while; the links had gotten all knotted up."

"So what are you looking for today?"

"I have to find something for Marjorie. I haven't seen her in so long and I want her present to be just perfect."

"Has she written what she would like?"

Michaela screwed up her face before answering disappointedly. "No, in fact she hasn't written me since she left in August. I used to keep hoping she'd send something, but Father said that school gets so busy during the year that it's all right that she doesn't remember to write." Michaela said the last bit as if trying to convince herself. Regardless of how busy Marjorie had been this semester, Michaela knew that part of the reason her sister didn't write was because Marjorie didn't want to have anything to do with her, and that was something Michaela just couldn't understand. Of course, Michaela knew when she was younger she wasn't that much fun, but now she was older and they could be sisters, not as she and Rebecca were sisters, but the kind of sisters that could talk about dresses and books and perhaps even oneday boys. Michaela had always hoped that one day Marjorie would decide that she wanted to spend time with her, and so a little part of her thought that if she found the perfect gift for her sister, Marjorie would realize that she was still there.

"So do you have anything in mind?"

"I was thinking about some perfume in a pretty bottle. I think she may be able to wear it to the New Year's Dance." Miriam nodded.

"Ok, then we'll start at the little boutique on Charles Street."

* * *

The low, throaty virtuoso of the string quartet rang through the halls of Ms. Peabody's, illuminating the rooms with the brilliance of music, which blended with laughter and conversation. It was the Christmas dance, the part of the year that all girls had waited for and most of the boys of St. Peter's had dreaded, and here it was.

The first of the evening had been a terrific success. Dinner was delicious and each girl was able to implement most of the skills that they had spent the year learning, the art of conversation, exemplary table manners, and that fluttery little laughter that seemed to come so naturally to most. Each of the St. Peter's boys seemed to be captivated by one girl or another through the course of the night and by the time the music had started most everyone had paired up to some extent, working in their implemented social structures of the evening. However, as with most cases there were a few who hadn't made that critical connection- Marjorie Quinn being one of them.

Marjorie knew the moment she saw the seating chart for dinner that she'd inevitably become invisible by the time the dancing started. Although the arrangement was boy, girl, boy, girl, Kathleen was sitting across from her. There was no chance for Marjorie, Kathleen stole the show wherever she went and tonight would be no different. Therefore, Marjorie didn't even try. Of course she smiled and laughed; she answered the questions asked of her and interjected thoughts in order that the conversation didn't lag, but the brilliance and vitality with which all the other girls seemed to attack the evening simply was not found in Marjorie. That was all right with her, however, for she was still enjoying the earlier aspects of the evening.

Marjorie's new dress had been an instant sensation. Not only did she feel like the most beautiful creature in the world, but she also managed to obtain compliments from every girl at Ms. Peabody's. She could still see it, the moment she walked out of her and Sarah's room. Kathleen had been sitting at the vanity amidst a cluster of girls who were going on about her hair and jewelry, and yet the moment Marjorie was spotted the squeals turned to her.

"Where did you get that dress?"

"You look simply ravishing, Marjorie."

"That necklace is perfect, did you plan them together?"

"Oh do you have any ideas for your hair? If not I think I know just the perfect coiffure."

The girls seemed to gather around her, closing in. In most occasions Marjorie wouldn't have been able to breathe with all the commotion, but the simple fact that they were so infatuated with her dress and her hair was something she didn't get to enjoy on most occasions- that and she so enjoyed the look of shock that had deformed the pretty features of Kathleen's face. Marjorie did indeed enjoy this feeling, but the moment she laid eyes on Sarah, standing by herself next to the window, Marjorie began to extricate herself from the mob of bows and crinolines.

"See? I told you you'd look beautiful." Sarah smiled sincerely at her friend. Rarely did she see such a smile spread across Marjorie's face, and Sarah new it was sincere.

"You did. I never should have doubted you. Would you do my hair if you've any time after you dress? I think you would make it look beautiful."

"I'd be honored."

Nearly three hours later and Marjorie still felt just as beautiful, and so it was perfectly fine that she and Sarah stood in the corner of the room watching everyone else twirl and spin about them. They had danced a few times a piece but no intense connections had been made. That is until…

"Oh!" Sarah's little voice squeaked over the music as she jumped slightly.

"Oh dear, what' the matter?" Marjorie was confused, and even more so after Sarah grabbed her arm in order to position them with their back turned toward the door. When Marjorie managed a good look at her friend, she realized that Sarah was bright red. "Sarah?"

"By the door…" Sarah whispered loudly, her eyes shooting over to where the two figures had been standing. "No don't look!"

"How do you expect me to know what you're talking about if I don't look?"

Sarah huffed at the dilemma and made a rapid decision. "Ok, look but only quickly." As Marjorie followed instructions, she heard Sarah's voice in her ear. "They're the boys we saw out in front of St Peters that time we walked through the park…. The ones who saw us too."

Quickly Marjorie's mind scanned over the days before her birthday. Their afternoon walk in the park stood out, and, as she sifted through the events of that walk, the faces of the short dark headed boy and the tall blonde waving at them most certainly came to mind. As she stood there now, she saw the same two boys making their way across the room- to her.

"Try to get a hold of yourself, they're coming this way."

"Wha…?" Sarah's voice was swallowed up as the song ended and the dancers gaily applause their musicians. They boys were coming closer and by the time the next song had started the four young adults were standing face to face.

"I don't know if it's proper or not, but I dare must say your too look vaguely familiar." The blonde boy spoke, his eyes scanning between Marjorie and Sarah before finally resting on the latter, who blushed fiercely under his gaze.

"We were wondering if it would be to forward of us if we took this opportunity to introduce ourselves- without the benefit of a third party." The dark headed boy seemed to watch Marjorie with the same piercing gaze and for a moment, she seemed to be stunned as if in a trance. He was so… so… handsome. She had never felt anything quite like it before, but she felt a little jump in her chest when he spoke. It felt as though he were speaking only to her.

Realizing no one had answered him, Marjorie grinned as saucily as she could manage. "Oh, but I do believe we have met before, you see. We just didn't take the opportunity to share our names, so there would be no need of a third party." Her eyes seemed to twinkle as if presenting a challenge that wasn't a challenge at all.

"Yes, I do believe you are correct. I assume you are referring to that day you two were spying on us leaving school." The dark headed boys matched her gaze, sealing Marjorie to the floor. She couldn't move even if she had wanted to. However, immobile she may have been, she most certainly could still comprehend his words.

"Spying, sir? Ladies never spy!" She mocked, rolling her eyes, which produced a deep chuckle from the young man standing across from her.

"No, they don't, do they. Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Benjamin Grisham, and this," he clapped his friendly loudly on the back, "is Christopher Watson."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, _formally_." Christopher responded taking somewhat of a bow. Marjorie had to laugh before turning her eyes back to Benjamin.

"And you are?" He asked, curiosity dripping in his voice.

"I'm Marjorie Quinn."

"And what about you. We haven't heard from you yet." Christopher prodded Sarah gently until she finally released a shy smile.

"I'm Sarah Clarkson. It's nice to meet you." Her meek voice could barely be heard over the music and yet Christopher still managed to smile.

As the conversation continued for a while, Marjorie became increasingly aware that most of the girls in the room who were not dancing were watching them. This included Kathleen who was standing in the corner, pretending to talk to Jason all the while staring unabashedly over her beau's shoulder. Although Marjorie wasn't sure what was going on, she had a feeling that everyone had noticed something she had missed.

"May we offer you ladies anything? A seat, a drink…" Benjamin bent toward Marjorie," a dance?"

"As much as a dance would sound wonderful, I believe that Sarah and I would like a glass of punch first." Smiling sweetly, she met Benjamin's playful grin and watched them leave. Feeling like she was floating on air, Marjorie knew that if she had turned to face Sarah she would have found a bright red girl whose heart was beating just as fast as her own, but she didn't have the chance to because as soon as they boys had left it seemed that Alanna magically appeared by their side.

"When were you going to tell us?" She asked expectantly before turning to nod to her friends, assuredly. They didn't have to worry about anything Alanna knew she would get all the information that was needed, but she had to admit that she was surprised by the apparent calmness on Marjorie's face.

"Tell you what? About Benjamin and Christopher? Oh, we've meet a few times, I didn't think it was pertinent." Marjorie brushed of the utter amazement that was shining on Alanna's face. There was no reason that anyone needed to know that her and Sarah had just been formally introduced to the boys.

"Oh my…" Alanna breathed, her hand rising to her mouth. "You don't know who that is do you?"

"Benjamin Grisham and Christopher Watson?"

"Ha! Benjamin Grisham's father owns the largest bank in the state of Connecticut." Alanna quickly explained before turning her attention to Sarah, who was still standing quietly, observing everything. "Christopher isn't far behind; his father's a grand lawyer in Hartford."

The full magnitude of what Alanna was saying didn't quite settle around Marjorie at once. In fact, it took several moments after the girl had left before Marjorie absorb it all, but soon she realized that she and Sarah an instantly become the envy of the party. All of the Peabody girls were watching them, envious of their catch of the evening. Although Marjorie had never wanted to court, to have a boy cater to her as if she couldn't managed things on her own, she found that she enjoyed the way she felt when he talked to her or brought her a drink, and to top it off nothing could beat the looks Kathleen was sending her way. Smiling indulgently, she watched as the boys returned.

"Thank you." Sarah whispered as she accepted the punch from Christopher. He smiled at her widely. He had to admit, not only did he find Miss Clarkson fetching, but her shy and quiet demeanor was sweet.

"You're very welcome." Christopher wasn't sure what to say next, but found some common ground. "So, are you from Connecticut?" Christopher watched as the meek girl before him seemed to beam to life as she smiled. She obviously loved her home.

"No, I'm from New York City, a beautiful little part just outside the city."

"You know I've always wanted to go to New York. Would you tell me a little about it?"

While Sarah and Christopher continued to talk, Marjorie and Benjamin had fallen into their own conversation.

"So what'd she say?" Benjamin asked throwing his head in the direction that Alanna fled.

"Excuse me?"

"Your friend."

Marjorie laughed. "Alanna is not my friend; she's more of a constant presence."

"So, what'd she say?"

"She was just telling me some things about you." Marjorie teased and battered her lashes.

"Oh yea? What'd she say?" Intrigued by her, Benjamin stepped a little closer, leaning his tall body over her. Marjorie twisted back and forth on her feet, the motion of a shy little girl, somehow distorting into the frame of a flirtatious young adult. Marjorie blushed, but did not speak. Benjamin lifted his eyes to scan the room. "You realize I have noticed that everyone in this room seems to be watching the two of us."

"Hm, that may have had a little something to do with our conversation." Marjorie whispered, the corners of her mouth pulling into a subtle smile.

Finishing off his punch, Benjamin reached for her glass. "Well what do you say we do some dancing and really give them something talk about tonight?" His eyebrow raised as if in a challenge, but found nothing but agreement. Marjorie Quinn matched him word for word, look for look. She was fiery and impulsive, and Benjamin liked that. It was a challenge. Taking her by the hand, he led her to the center of the room and together, they danced.

* * *

"Ha ha ha!" Marjorie's laughter filled the air as she stumbled down the hallway causing her laughter as well as Sarah's to grow. Tripping over her own two feet, Marjorie fell into the wall giggling.

"What are you doing?" Sarah cried, struggling to catch her friend.

"I'm sorry. I think we've reached that time at night where everything is funny!" Marjorie snorted, righting herself and making her way to their room. "Did you see everyone down there? All the looks?"

"We held quite the attention, but I hope it wasn't just for tonight. I think I would like to see Christopher again." Sarah blushed as she lowered her eyes to the carpet on which their feet were treading.

"Oh, I'm sure we will."

Perhaps the best part of balls is the late hour in which everyone goes home to bed. Clothes are left on the floor, shoes are left in their place, and jewelry is placed in a pile on the nightstand as each girl prepared for luxurious sleep in their own warm bed.

Marjorie, however, couldn't help but feel that as she was unraveling layer after layer of her costume that she was extinguishing a spell. The magic of the evening was waning and her mind began to wander to the weeks ahead. She had spent an entire month waiting on this dance to arrive, but now felt incredibly disappointed that it was all over. Now there would be Christmas and New Years with her family, but Marjorie found that the next thing she was excited about was the beginning of the new school year.

_There's chapter 13. So many exciting things are getting ready to happen, we have Christmas, a New Year's ball coming, and, of course we must see Claudette and Walter again! Looking forward to hearing what you think guys!_


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"Deck the halls with boughs of holly…" the joyous singing of Christmas carols resonated with the lighthearted care in which these last few days have been lived. Rebecca and Thomas had come early Monday morning with their two sons, Tommy and Randy, and Maureen and Jonathan had brought their children from Virginia in order to enjoy the holiday traditions of the Quinn family. It was three days before Christmas and the tree was just now being erected in the parlor. Everyone knew that they would be decorating well into the night. However, the laziness with which they seemed to work proved that no one was in a hurry to speed the job up.

For Tommy and Randy, the time of year signalized a period of freedom. It was only at Christmas time that the boys were allowed to do was they pleased. They could run where they liked and eat however many cookies that suited them. In the eyes of a six year old and a four year old, it was pure paradise. Even now, the boys were running amongst the furniture, crawling across the floor and giggling unashamedly. Rebecca, who had vowed to allow the boys to do as they pleased for the next few days simply struggled to bite her tongue. Instead, she sought to focus her attention on something else.

"Oh she is simply the happiest baby I think I have ever seen." Rebecca cooed as she bounced a warmly wrapped bundle in her arms. "And I just can't get over how much she looks like you." Rebecca tapped the babe on the end of the nose. Maureen, who was sitting closely to her eldest sister, leaned in to look once more upon her precious darling. Little Janey Scott was over two month old now and the apple of her parents' eye.

"I don't know. I see a lot of Jonathan in her also."

"Don't let her fool you. The baby is all her, down to the little hand gestures." The hearty tenor interrupted the ladies' conversation. Jonathan stood near the newly constructed tree, bouncing his son, James, on his arm. The two year old simply watched his older cousins fly around the room with wide eyes, and after deciding he has been stationary too long, kicked his little legs in an attempt to get his father to put him down. Jonathan conceded and then laughed. "Well it looks like the tree is left up to Thomas and me once again."

"I think that's part of the tradition." Thomas walked from around the tree, shaking it from time to time in order to check the stability. "Once they get older we won't get the pleasure. They'll want to do it themselves." A loud thud and elicit of squeals further exclamaited Thomas' point making all the adults laugh. The boys had no interest in tree decorating.

"It looks as though the tree is ready for trimming." Maureen noted, smiling. "It's simply lovely; are we ready to string the popcorn?"

It wasn't until now that Michaela deemed it necessary to speak. She had been sitting contently at the piano since their last song ended, shuffling through sheet music and trying to decide what they'd sing next. However, hearing the discussion on the decorations, Michaela's ears instinctively perked. They couldn't trim the tree yet, Father hadn't made it home from the train station and surely Marjorie would want them all to wait on her. After all, she rarely ever got to spend time with her family and trimming the tree was something they did every year. Frowning, Michaela turned to face at her sisters sitting on the sofa. Rebecca, recognized the look on the younger girl's face and knew what she was going to say before the words had even been spoken.

"We should…" Michaela was cut off by Randy's scream of joy.

"Ganpa's home!" Jumping down from where the chair he had been kneeling in, he made a move toward his brother, who scampered away in a spontaneous game of tag. Michaela however, mimicked the movement of her younger nephew, except as she hastily stood from her chair, she instantly raced for the foyer, reminding everyone that although they often forgot, she was still only a ten year old girl. Rebecca, fearing impending disaster, handed the baby of and hastily followed.

Michaela came to stand in the doorway of the parlor as the front door opened. Joseph entered first and immediately stepped to the side as he made to remove his coat and hat. His expression was drawn and strained. Michaela didn't notice. "Welcome home, Father. We've had such a wonderful afternoon, the tree's already up, and we're ready to start decorating."

"That's nice, darling." Joseph spoke absentmindedly. Marjorie entered immediately after her father, but without the grace and elegance. She took two steps into the foyer and flung the door shut behind her. The slam echoed through the house, almost shaking the furniture around her. Crossing her arms across her chest, she threw a scornful look to her father, but Michaela's face only brightened.

"Marjorie, do you want to help us trim the tree?"

Marjorie merely rolled her eyes, turning her vengeful gaze on her sister as she huffed. "No I don't want to help with your stupid tree!" Not taking the time to speak with anyone else, Marjorie ran straight upstairs.

Michaela stood stunned as she watched her sister's retreating form. It wasn't until she heard the slam of a door upstairs and she was jarred back into her reality. She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her and her eyes stung with tears. She wasn't sure what she had done wrong. Shifting her eyes to where her father still stood with his back to her, Michaela watched as he ran his hand across his chin before lowering his forehead into his hands. Michaela wanted to ask him what had happened, why Marjorie was upset, but she didn't really want to know. She didn't want to have that conversation. She could still feel her heart pounding in her chest, sending tingles through her arms and she didn't want to say anything least she start crying.

"Come on, sweetheart. We'll go ahead and start on the tree and maybe she'll join us after she settles down a bit." Rebecca's whisper came close to Michaela's ear, and her gentle hands ran gently over the younger girl's shoulders. Softly Rebecca put a little pressure of Michaela's shoulders to turn her back toward the parlor with the ribbons and strings and the freshly cut tree.

* * *

Christmas itself was a small affair at the Quinn household. It came and went with relatively no more commotion. Early in the morning, all woke with the eager excitement that "Santa had come." Presents were opened immediately following breakfast. Joseph openly admired the gold chain Michaela had chosen for him, and Maureen and Rebecca seemed to enjoy their new earrings. Michaela, in turn received a new dress from Rebecca and Thomas and some new sheet music from Maureen and Jonathan. It was, however, the books her father gave her, a collection of essays by Ralph Waldo Emerson and a book on science that she truly treasured, but there was no way she would have let on that these were her favorite. Everything about Christmas morning was perfect and everyone seemed to have such a good time, all except for Marjorie that was.

Michaela watched Marjorie with particular interest, taking note of each and every facial expression as she opened her presents. Marjorie seemed to be less than impressed with each new discovery she took. It was as if she forced each action, each word; as if she had to do all these things that she didn't want to do in order to pass the time. Present after present, Marjorie opened and yet, no expression of pleasure came across her face. _Just wait until she gets to mine_ Michaela thought, smiling to herself. She had waiting for days, excited to see what Marjorie what say when she opened the beautifully wrapped box and saw the beautiful crystal spray bottle filled with lavender scent. Michaela had it all rehearsed in her mind. Marjorie would open the box and gasp in amazement. Smiling, she would move to give Michaela a hug, a real hug, and they would become virtually inseperable. However, as Marjorie got to the box, she showed no more emotion than she had with the others; she just simply set the box aside. Michaela, who had watched intently, shifted her eyes now in disappointment. Maybe she had been wrong; she hadn't picked the perfect gift.

Later in the afternoon, after each had gone their separate ways, the children were left to play with their toys, the women started to plan for the New Year's party and the men were left to talk amongst themselves, Michaela had found herself standing in the door to Marjorie's room.

Marjorie had left the celebrations at the earliest possible opportunity. She couldn't bring herself to do it much longer, sit and smile and pretend that she cared about these people and what they had to say. These weren't her family, a family loved and cared for one another and despite how many times her father or Rebecca wrote, Marjorie saw nothing reflect in these people's eyes but charity. Marjorie didn't want charity. Retreating into her room, Marjorie resigned herself to watching the sun pass along the sky. However, not everyone was content to allow Marjorie have the evening to herself. A soft tapping on the door disrupted her thoughts.

"What do you want?" Marjorie asked, turning to see her younger sister standing in the doorway.

Michaela forced a smile. "Merry Christmas, Marjorie!" Her hands buried themselves in the folds of her dress.

"Oh, Merry Christmas." Marjorie mumbled watching Michaela expectantly. An uncomfortable silence filled the room.

"You didn't like it." Michaela motioned to the pile of presents sitting on the corner of the bed.

"What?"

"The perfume. You didn't like it."

"Oh, not really."

"Did you even smell it? I thought it smelled like you."

"How do you even know what I would smell like?" Marjorie's words came out rather harsh and sounded something akin to a rebuff which made Michaela cringe.

"I'm sorry. I really did want to get you something you would like."

"It's alright. Presents aren't really that important." Marjorie now turned from the door, directing her gaze again to the window. Michaela however, wasn't finished with the conversation. Chewing on the inside of her lip, she dared to enter the room and come to stand next to her sister. Quietly she held out an object she had been holding in her hand. "What's that?"

Michaela took a deep breath. "It's my new arithmetic book. You can have it if you like. I haven't done many of the problems in it. I only got it last Friday."

"Why would I want your arithmetic book?"

"I thought you were good at math and…"

"Just because I'm good at it doesn't mean that I want to do it all the time like you. Believe it or not I do have a life and friends and we do things other than study."

For the second time in three days Michaela's breath caught in her throat, but now frustration mixed with her disappointment. "You know I have friends too, but I do like doing these things. Forgive me for thinking that you might enjoy it too. At least I'm the one trying here." Turning from her position, Michaela no longer had the desire to talk to her sister. She didn't want to see Marjorie or hear what she had to say. Why did it always have to be this hard?

* * *

After preaching the Christmas sermon, Walter and Claudette boarded the train and were in Boston only two days before New Years. Most of the plans had been made by Rebecca and Maureen for the party and so Claudette was able to simply sweep in and perfect what had been done. Out of all the girls, it was Claudette who most resembled their mother in demeanor and personality. When she was around everything worked seamlessly at the peak of its perfection, but her presence always seemed to shake things up. This time was no different.

"Something must be done." Claudette was saying between sips of tea.

"But what?" Maureen chimed it.

It hadn't taken long after all the sisters were together for them to find some time to speak on the matter which concerned them most- Michaela.

"May I just say that I don't believe that there is anything to be concerned about yet." Rebecca sat straight in her chair. She wasn't sure where this conversation was going, but she knew that the solutions considered would not be suitable.

"Of course you don't believe anything is wrong, but that will change soon. We must do something now." Claudette was adamant on this stance.

"You even said so yourself, Rebecca." Marjorie tried to reason. "You said that she ran and skipped and played just like a boy, but she isn't a boy. She's going to be eleven this year. Within the next few years she'll be making the critical connections needed in order to make a good match."

"That is what we all must strive for."

Rebecca however, shook her head. "She says that she doesn't want to marry. She has her heart set upon becoming a doctor."

"Foolish nonsense if you ask me." Claudette spat.

"Come now Claudette, she's only a girl who has big dreams. Whether they're practical or not she should be the one that decides that her station in life is with a husband and children." Claudette made no move to Rebecca's words and thus the eldest woman turned her eyes toward Maureen. "If it were Jane would you be able to tell her no? How would you explain that her choices have already been made?" Maureen sat back stunned, unable to find an answer. It was Claudette however, who spoke for her.

"We never had the option. We were always told bluntly what it was that we were training for. You remember the sewing sessions with Mother after dinner. Honestly Rebecca, you started your hope chest embroidery when you were sixteen. It's not Father's fault. He wouldn't have been aware of these things, but we cannot sit idly by and let him cater to this dream of hers." Rebecca, having been corrected simply sighed. She couldn't battle both Maureen and Claudette, especially when she knew that they were both right.

"What do you have in mind?" She asked.

"Walter and I are going to offer for Michaela to come stay with us."

"She'll be homesick."

"She can come home whenever she likes. We can always visit Father, and this way it would be easier on him working his hours at the hospital."

"She won't have many friends."

"There are plenty of children in the parish. She'll get along beautifully. Besides this is more for her education that for her enjoyment."

Maureen sat her tea down on the server a little loudly in order to gain the attention of those around her. "I for one think it's a lovely idea. Claudette would be much easier on her than a teacher." Rebecca only sighed.

"I suppose your both right. Ask Father and see what he says, but you must remember to be gentle with her, Claudette. Father has managed to keep her life very sheltered." Rebecca choice of words were necessary to say, despite the wounded look on her sister's face. Claudette could be harsh sometimes, but most of the people who knew her simply brushed that aside. However, Michaela was still gentle in some sense- easily hurt by those around her. Claudette would have to learn to keep herself in check.

Claudette, although taken back by those words considered them and finally replied as sincerely, "I want to do the best for Michaela that I can. I simply want her to be able to survive in this world. She already has it bad enough without Mother, she needs some sort of guidance."

"When are you speaking with Father?"

"Walter and I are going to wait until after the party tomorrow night."

* * *

The swish of skirts back and forth across the floor was almost soothing enough to put Marjorie to sleep. She had been sitting next to the window for nearly an hour and a half now, staring blindly outside. It had begun to snow quite a while ago and now a mass of white fluff was crowded across the ground. Little tiny snowflakes clung to the sidewalk, windowsill, even the lamppost causing the usual sharp light to be faded and fuzzy. It was cold outside, to cold probably, but Marjorie would rather be out there. That's where Sarah would have wanted to be- outside playing in the snow.

Sighing, Marjorie turned her eyes back toward the party. It was small, not by any means the size of some of the elite balls of Boston Society, but Dr. Quinn preferred it this way. He'd rather spend the evening with a few of his closest friends and collegues than with hundreds of people he didn't know. It had been Elizabeth who had desired the large balls and large gatherings that ultimately became the social events of the season. After her death, the parties had almost ceased to exist, but ever so slowly, they came creeping back. Joseph didn't really mind, although now, he kept an eye on what was really the most important things to him, his girls.

Standing in the corner of the room, Joseph spoke amiably to Dr. Jacobs, a surgeon whom he had worked with on more than one occasion. They were conversing back and forth on a new treatment, but Joseph found himself having a difficult time keeping his mind on the conversation. He hated knowing that his mind was wondering from the conversation in which he was involved, it wasn't very polite at all, but once he began to stray there was no use. Especially after he saw Marjorie sitting quietly by the window. He had seen her dance once or twice and speak with some of the younger men here, but now she simply sat staring out the window.

As the conversation with Dr. Jacobs dissipated Joseph took the opportunity to steal away. Grabbing a glass of punch, he easily transverse his way around the edges of the room in order to reach it to his young daughter.

As Dr. Quinn's shade fell across Marjorie, she simply looked up at him, making no move to change her current facial expression. He, though, was smiling subtly as he sat in the windowsill next to her. He held the glass out to her and waited for her to take a sip, which she did obligingly.

"I was hoping I might interest you in a dance. It's only five minutes to New Years and it's certain to be one of the last dances of the evening." Joseph spoke, although disappointedly as he watched her return her indifferent glare to the window. Slowly she shook her head.

"No, that's alright. I believe I'll head to bed." Marjorie stood and simply left the room, leaving Joseph's sorrowful glance to follow her. Reaching up, he hastily ran his hand through his beard. _I'm losing her and I don't know how to stop it. _

Michaela, being only ten years old wasn't allowed to stay up to hear the clock strike twelve. Actually if it has just been Michaela and her father, he probably would have made an exception for a special occasion, but the rules changed when there was a party. Besides, there wasn't anyone around Michaela's age at the party, and Father couldn't be with her all the time. However, just because she had been sent to bed didn't mean she would stay there. She had snuck out of her room and was sitting at the top of the stairs, watching the party through the banisters. Michaela didn't mind not being able to participate, in fact she enjoyed the people watching.

She had been here nearly an hour when Marjorie's form came hurrying from the morning room and bolting up the stairs. She didn't even pause to speak and Michaela made no motion toward her sister. Instead, with five minutes left until midnight, Michaela made her way further and further down the stairs, anxious to see the celebrations. The champagne was poured and served and everyone stood, waiting, eyes glued to the clock. Then, with the strike of the Grandfather clock on twelve o'clock the band started playing once more. Michaela had easily picked out Rebecca standing with Thomas by the fire, Maureen and Jonathan stood facing the clock, and Claudette and Walter, were smiling broadly at one another. With the strike of the last chime everyone kissed. Michaela felt somewhat of a rush at watching such a sentiment. Most were just pecks on the cheek or the forehead. Her sisters, after receiving a sweet kiss from their husbands moved to kiss each other's cheeks. Michaela felt herself blush redden at watching such a scene, and yet had a desire to be with someone as well. Everyone had someone by their side, to congratulate them for making it yet another year and to share the hope for a year even better than the last. Michaela wanted someone, she wanted someone to care and congratulate. About that time, she saw her father wander from the parlor.

Joseph had never liked the New Year tradition of kissing your sweetheart, and in truth in the years since Elizabeth had passed he had avoided it at all cost. That used to be them, him and her, looking forward to another year shared in each other's presence. Somehow, now it seemed wrong to look forward to the new year, instead he just took the days as they came. Still, he strove to quietly excuse himself from the room at the strike of midnight. Perhaps as a means to rest in the presence of his own sweetheart.

"Another year, Elizabeth. Everything's beginning to change." Joseph's mind ran over the conversation or lack of conversation that he had shared with Marjorie. He was troubled, but he wouldn't be able to solve all problems tonight. Tomorrow would be a new day, a new year even, and he would be able to tackle his burdens with new zeal.

Hearing a soft little thud, Joseph turned himself from where he had been watching the snow through the window only to find a little Michaela standing and staring at him, eyes wide soft.

"Mike, what are you doing here?" He whispered softly. Surprised to see the young girl up at so late an hour.

She didn't speak though, she just stood at the bottom of the stairs and watched him. Dropping to one knee, Joseph opened his arms to her, his posture inviting her toward him. Grinning brightly, she instinctively closed the distance between them and wasted no time in wrapping her arms around his neck, seeking comfort in his embrace, and planting a soft, sweet kiss to his cheek.

"Happy New Years, Father." She whispered in his ear.

* * *

_Here you go guys. Let me know what you think!_


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

One week after New Year's, Marjorie found herself back in Hartford. It couldn't really be said that she was sad at being back in Connecticut. In fact, if someone had seen her getting off the train, the smile on her face and way she seemed to nearly run down the platform would have suggested that she had just returned home, much less just come from home. Her last few days in Boston were spent much like the first few days. Marjorie chose not to interact with anyone unless absolutely necessary, choosing instead to ignore the hurt expression that graced the faces of both her father and younger sister. Marjorie just simply didn't want to have anything to do with them, and in reality, she'd prefer that they just leave her alone. It had gotten on her nerves how Michaela seemed to be standing behind her every time she turned around wearing a smile and prepared to ask a question. However, thankfully after their little spat on Christmas, Michaela seemed no longer interested in what Marjorie was doing or what she was thinking. (This is probably the most appropriate time to mention that Michaela was no sorrier to see her sister go than Marjorie was to actually leave, and yet Michaela was saddened by the fact that she couldn't bring herself to miss her sister any more than she did.)

Three hours later, Marjorie was back to school and had a long await reunion with Sarah. The girls found a few minutes unto themselves to talk about their holidays and tell the news of their presents before any interruptions broke them apart for the evening. As soon as Marjorie's bags arrived, however, the cat was let out of the bag, and girls seemed to flock to the private sanctuary of her and Sarah's room.

The bags were strewn across Marjorie's bed and thrown open as the girls, including Alanna and Lillian, descended upon the parcels like a flock of vultures. Scarves and dresses were being pulled from their bindings and hastily put away- or at least, that was the attempt. Marjorie stood back and basked in the glory of being the center of attention.

"Oh look at this frock. It's absolutely beautiful!" One of the girls exclaimed pulling out a royal blue silk gown.

"Oh that old thing? That's just a little something I picked up one day. It's nothing special." Marjorie shrugged non-chalantly.

"It must have cost a fortune!"

Marjorie feigned ignorance. "I wouldn't know. I don't really pay much attention to the price when I shop. It's more important that I like what I buy. Now this," she reached in and pulled out a hand-beaded shawl. "This is one of my favorites." She held out the article for all to admire. Lillian, who bent directly over Marjorie's hands, gently ran her hands across the surface.

"What is this made of?"

"I believe it's Venetian silk." Marjorie bragged, a crooked smile spreading across her face. She watched as the girls continued to look through the valise commenting on anything and everything.

Kathleen, entering the room, positioned herself at the door and watched as the girls fluttered through the room. She frowned at the way all of them bent over the crystal perfume bottle Michaela had given Marjorie for Christmas.

"Oh it smells so good!" Alanna exclaimed, sniffing a small patch on her wrist.

"Oh what do we have here? A little gift daddy sent?" Kathleen's voice was dripping with malice. After all, she was still very bitter at the catch Marjorie had at the Christmas ball the weekend before they all left for Christmas. Watching the way Marjorie's eyes narrowed at her presence gave Kathleen more power and she straightened from her place at the doorway. "Everyone knows the reason daddy sends so many gifts don't you?" She addressed the girls as a whole before settling back on Marjorie. "It's because he feels guilty about the fact he doesn't want to have anything to do with you."

Although the comment stung, Marjorie never let it show. Always quick to think, she shot back just a quickly. "At least my father didn't take one look at my massive nose and immediately set about purchasing every hat and shawl in sight as a means of offsetting it's enormity." Marjorie basked in success as she watched Kathleen's had involuntary fly to her nose, the weak spot in her self-esteem, before promptly turning and walking out of the room aghast.

The few girls that remained behind simply stared at one another, but it was Lillian who finally spoke, clicking her tongue in disappointment.

"Oh Marjorie. Why did you have to go and bring that up? You know how sensitive she is about her nose." Shaking her head, she and Alanna turned and hasted out of the room.

"Did I tell you girls about the new dancing shoes mother bought me?" One of the girls asked as a means to restart the conversation. Within two minutes, she had described the slippers and was leading the group of girls to take a tour through her own trousseau. Marjorie and Sarah were left alone.

While Marjorie continued to put things away, Sarah simply stood in the corner, watching her. It was easy to detect the way Marjorie kept her head bowed in order to avoid looking Sarah in the face, and when a few minutes had passed without words it was Sarah who first broke the silence.

"You shouldn't do that, you know."

"Do what?"

"Match Kathleen. It won't make anyone like you. In fact, it's liable to make them do the opposite. They are rather loyal to her." Sarah moved across the room and sat on her own bed.

"So, since when have I ever cared if anyone like me?"

* * *

The crunching of snow under the hefty weight of the carriage announced to Michaela that her father had arrived. She watched as the black giant came rolling to a stop in front of her school. Class had only been out for ten minutes but even so, Michaela sought the warmth of the indoors while she was waiting on the doctor's arrival. Even now, she waited until Harrison had stopped the horses and gotten down to open the door before she raced from the building. Hurling herself toward the carriage, her foot hit the bottom step and she nearly went airborne, flying into the safe enclosure and landing comfortable at her father's side.

Joseph laughed at the blur that was his daughter. It was as if the girl ran like the wind, leaving no recognizable traces of her existence until she finally came to rest next to him. With a move that matched the quickness of his child, Joseph flopped half of the blanket that as presently warming his legs on to her, making sure to wrap the already shuddering child thoroughly.

"Hello Father." Michaela whispered breathlessly, her cheeks flushing with exertion and her nose chilling in the winter air. Her pink little lips tightened into a smile.

"My dear it looks as if you're half frozen."

"Oh I was waiting inside, but the door was cracked so the fire didn't help much." Michaela patted the tip of her nose with a mitted hand before holding her arm out to him. "And look!" She displayed rather distastefully a large hole, which her thumb now proceeded to slither in and out of.

"Well, I would say that a new pair of mittens is in order." He laughed, taking her hand in his own and examining it carefully.

"It'll be my second pair this winter." Michaela added nuzzling the side of her father's arm in an attempt to warm her freezing nose. Joseph frowned at her words. She was growing so fast, and her admittance of that seemed like a candle that illuminated an item sitting lost in an abandoned room. It reminded him that there was still another topic that he had left to speak with her about. Covering her exposed cheek with his hand, he held her firmly to him as she began to warm once more, but his mind drifted to the week before when Claudette and Walter had convened in his office.

"_There's something that we wanted to talk with you about." Claudette had started, walking into the room, and standing before his desk expectantly. Joseph wasn't at all concerned with her anxious movements, or the way she seemed to rock back and forth on her feet. Claudette was naturally high strung. Things bothered her that wouldn't bother the average person; however, Joseph knew that the reserved look on his son in law's face was not a good sign. Immediately alerted, he gestured to the two chairs sitting before his desk. _

"_What's happened?"_

"_Nothing bad has happened." Walter was quick to reassure the older man. There was no need to worry Joseph. "We just merely wanted to speak to you about…"_

"…_Michaela. We want to talk about Michaela and her future." Claudette assuredly jumped into the conversation. She paused for a moment for a look of recognition to cross her father's face, but there was none and so she continued. "She needs a woman; a mother or a sister. She needs to be taught feminine things and she needs to learn them quickly if she is going to have a chance at marrying before she turns twenty."_

_Joseph felt as if he had nearly been knocked backwards. Married? Good knight, she was only ten, eleven in a little over a month. "I think she's doing remarkably Claudette. She's excelling at school. She absolutely brilliant."_

"_It's not her book learning that's lacking. She needs other knowledge than what can be found in a book. Things that you cannot teach her." Claudette did not notice the way her father's jaw tensed at the words. For five years, he had fought to keep Michaela in a stable environment. He sought to be her everything, her father, her mother, teacher, and to an extent her best friend. Upon the multitude of times that Joseph had thought, perhaps that he couldn't be all for her, he had managed to work through his own doubt. However, he didn't take kindly to hearing the words come from someone else's mouth, much less his daughter. Walter saw the doctor tense and immediately made to smooth the topic. _

"_What Claudette is speaking of is the gentilities of domesticity. Things like sewing, embroidery, flower arranging, even something simple as cooking." Joseph's eyes shifted to the younger man and nodded slightly, an encouraging move to continue. "We were thinking that it would be easier if Michaela came and stayed with us for a while. That way she could learn all of her skills from Claudette without having to be sent to school. She could make visits home whenever she liked."_

"_I see, and what makes you so concerned about this?"_

_Claudette once again answered. "She's too wild. She needs to learn to be gentler and calmer."_

"_She's a child."_

"_Father, girls don't become children. They go straight from being infants to young ladies." At this, Joseph quieted and considered what was being proposed. It didn't sound too bad. Those were certainly skills that Michaela may enjoy, and she might like spending time with her sister, but then again it would be hard to let her go. She was his world. Sighing, he chose his words closely. _

"_I'll speak with Michaela. If she would like to go then she may under the condition that she continues her schooling. Ultimately the decision will be up to her."_

"_But Fath…"_

"_No." Joseph lifted his hand to cut her off. "This is Michaela's decision. I will not condemn her to something she does not want." With nothing more said, Claudette and Walter left the room, understanding that this was the best chance they had._

'Mike…" Joseph started to question quietly, not sure of how to proceed.

"Yes?" Michaela didn't even bother to remove her cheek from his side, she simply tilted her face toward him making her look all the more like a small child.

"Claudette and I were talking and there was a question that I wanted to ask you." Michaela stiffened slightly, noticing her father's insecurity. Whatever Claudette had had to say it wouldn't have been good.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing is wrong my darling. We just were wondering…" Joseph took a breath before launching into it his rehearsed spill. "Mike, you're getting older now, perhaps you would like to be closer to your sister? You'd have a woman close by to talk to and ask questions."

"You mean Claudette?" Michaela twisted her face up.

"Well, she could teach you things that I wouldn't be able to. She could give you advice. It may not be that bad."

"But I have Rebecca."

"Yes, I know, but Rebecca is sidetracked with her boys. Claudette doesn't have anyone. You would be doing her a favor as much as she were to be doing you one."

Michaela considered his words for a moment. Honestly, she had never considered needing a woman around. If there were anything like that she needed Martha was always available, and something told her that all Claudette would want to do was shop and gossip. However, it wouldn't hurt to spend time with Claudette, and Michaela truly adored Walter. For a split second, she considered it, but there was still a little something tugging in the back of her head.

She vocalized it quietly, daring not to say more.

"Would I have to leave home?"

"You would be staying with Claudette and Walter for a period of time."

"We're not talking about a few weeks here, are we?"

"No, more like several months. You could come home for summer and the holidays."

Instinctively Michaela sat back, shocked. "But what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You'll be all alone."

"I'll still be working and I could visit on my off days." Joseph stared into her unsure eyes and flicked a piece of hair from her face. "You could visit any time you like." Her gaze drifted down to her hands, fumbling in and out of the blanket.

"Do I have to?"

Joseph sat back slightly. "Of course not." He watched as she sniffed, not uncertain if she was getting ready to cry. Never would he have thought that she would have gotten so upset by this proposition. In fact, a part of him had been desperately afraid that she would be excited by it.

Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around his and buried her face into his side.

"I want to stay with you."

No one ever mentioned Claudette's proposal again.

* * *

Marjorie sat in the window seat of the downstairs parlor. Her drawing book was stretched across her lap, but she seemed uninterested by her venture. Instead, she lost herself in a daydream. Staring lazily out the window, Marjorie stared intently on the feathery soft snow that covered the ground as far as the eye could see. She could imagine the feeling of walking across the ground each step sinking her further and further in to the cold wetness, but in her mind, it wasn't wet or cold, it was fluffy and sweet.

It always amazed Marjorie that each flake was unique unto itself. Each flake was an individual and yet they all came together to create a blanket of solid whiteness. It was just like people. Everyone was unique, a different personality for all and yet there were so many people you met that you never got to know them inside, only what they looked on the outside. Yet everyone came together to form a bigger unit, one in which everyone lost their identity.

Marjorie's mind drifted between Boston and New York. Tall building filled her mind with streets covered with horses and buggies. Mud caked the sidewalks and puddles often waited to wet new boots. People came and went, not pausing or stopping to look at one another. Every so often two men, or women, would meet on the street and converse but never for long. There were things to do and places to be. Each person had their purpose for being out and about that day. Everyone had a story and was unknown to the others that walked beside them on the street. Marjorie sort of enjoyed the idea that she could become one of many. She could have her own story, like the one in the stories she made up. In fact, she sometimes wished she could just go ahead, write her story like a script, and have everyone play their parts. It wouldn't be like it was here where everyone knew what you did or thought. She could truly be her own person.

Unable to stop her own musings, Marjorie's mind traced back toward her time in New York and slowly wandered to the strange woman she had seen on the street when she had been shopping with Sarah. There was just something about that woman that Marjorie couldn't escape, but she didn't know what it was. She wasn't sure if it was the vibrant clothes or ostentatious hair, but Marjorie had thought of her often in the days since her birthday. She wanted to know the mystery woman's story. Why was she in New York and why did she dress the way she did. Marjorie couldn't help herself. Often times she resorted to creating her own story about the proud lady.

As Marjorie continued to daydream, the little parlor filled with girls, passing through on their way to the dining room for afternoon tea. The ceaseless chatter filled the room like hot air, filling in the corners and blocking the serene thoughts from Marjorie's mind.

"Oh that French test was just so easy today. Really I believe if Miss Maloney tries to make it any easier she's going to have to make it open book." Kathleen called back to the myriad of girls who walked in her footsteps. They all huddled together to agree over what had been said.

"Really?" one of the quieter girls spoke up. "I thought it was rather challenging."

"Bah!" Kathleen shook her head. "You just didn't study hard enough. It wasn't hard at all. What do you think, Marjorie?" Kathleen stopped only long enough to shoot a secret smile over to the girls sitting alone in the corner. She knew very well how much Marjorie struggled in their foreign language and was set simply on making the girl blush. That would be gratifying indeed.

Marjorie merely scowled at the condescending girl. "Je pense tu es agaçante." The snappy comeback made Kathleen double take and even blush when she realized that one or two of the older girls had managed to translate what had been said. _I think you are annoying_. How dare that little rat? Just because she had managed to catch the eye of Benjamin Grisham, she believed she could go around and act like she was so much better than anyone else.

Marjorie wasn't intimidated by Kathleen's stern glare at all. In fact, she rather enjoyed the thought that she had managed to get to the blonde girl. Marjorie, secretly reveling in her personal victory matched the older girl's stare eye for eye until Kathleen, shaken by Marjorie's boldness continued to her excursion to the kitchen.

Marjorie allowed her eyes to drop once again to the drawing book sprawled across her lap, but she hadn't had the time to retreat back into her dreams before Sarah appeared by her side, taking the place where Kathleen once stood.

When Marjorie finally became aware of the other girl's presence, she slowly looked up. "Whatever is the matter?" Marjorie inquired taking note of the way Sarah's cheeks seemed to flush and she seemed to breathe just a little harder than usual. In her hand, she clutched at a tiny white paper. "Sarah?"

"Oh, it's the boys!" Sarah exclaimed breathlessly sitting on the other side of the window seat.

"What boys?"

"Christopher and Benjamin, they've written to Ms. Peabody for permission to come calling."

"What?" Marjorie jerked up so quickly that all the books tumbled from her lap, but she made no move to catch them. Instead, she held out her hand, wanting to read this paper herself. Why in heavens name would those boys want to come calling on them? Examining the note, Marjorie looked for any way that this could be faked, any sign that Kathleen had written it or Lillian and Alanna had helped in the plan, but the letter seemed authentic. What's more is that the wording was the most gentlemanly that Marjorie had ever seen before.

_**We, Benjamin Grisham and Christopher Watson wish to seek the permission to call upon Miss Marjorie Quinn and Miss Sarah Clarkson in the most respectable manner that would be permitted. We sincerely hope that Ms. Peabody would take our plea into consideration for a future arrangement.**_

Marjorie felt the tops of her ears go red and her eyes scanned over the paper. _Miss Marjorie Quinn… Miss._ She felt a little tingle shoot up her spin. Is this what it felt like to be a lady? Certainly, she had never desired to be treated in such a manner, so why was her heart fluttering so? She didn't know and she couldn't put a placement on what exactly these emotions were, but she knew that she like the way she was feeling inside that this particular moment. She didn't want to lose that feeling and suddenly she found herself hoping beyond all doubt that Ms. Peabody would allow the boys to come calling. Lifting her eyes from the piece of paper, she searched Sarah out who was smiling unashamedly.

"They're coming to call a three weeks from Friday."

* * *

_There's Chapter 15 guys! Let me know what you think!_


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

The sun had long set under the horizon casting darkness around the earth like a blanket, preparing to tuck it in for the night. The comfortable house on Mount Vernon Street stood as a stable beacon in the night, rising against the frigid night air to provide a warm shelter, and the faint glow from the oil lamps illuminated the windows in a golden glow and casted shadows of the occupants of the rooms brightly for everyone to see.

The crackling sound of fire as it warmed the comfortable office was a faint sound, a gentle, constant reminder of the coldness outside. Joseph Quinn was standing next to his drink cabinet, pouring a glass of port before turning back to the men that gathered in his office.

"Surely you don't mean to think that Van Buren is the way to go?" David Lewis Sr. asked reclining in his chair.

"I should say not if we want another panic on our hands like we did back in '37." Rebecca's husband, Thomas, nodded hitching his leg over the corner of Joseph's desk in order to sit comfortably on the edge. He leaned forward slightly, resting his arm across his thigh. Thomas glanced to his right where his law partner, James Montgomery stood next to the fireplace subtly swirling the reddish liquid around his glass.

"Yes, but can we survive another four years of Van Buren?" Montgomery spoke up, looking to every man in the room. "The press in England has been spreading stories that the American Government is not honest when it borrows money."

"Those were individual states in the union that had no business borrowing money from England in the first place. If Great Britain had indeed decided to give them loans it was at their own risk, there was nothing to guarantee that the states wouldn't default." Joseph cleared the air as he handed the freshly poured port to Lewis before sitting across from the man.

"Well regardless of whether or not it was correct in doing so, something could have been done to stabilize the world view of the American Nation. They rarely like to acknowledge us as it is and what little recognition we do receive it is negative."

"That's not the only problems I've found with his administration. For a man who's personal opinions oppose slavery in earnest he certainly caters to the institution." Thomas spoke softly, knowing how his words would provoke interest.

"In what ways do you see that?"

"Well, he did nominate an absurd amount of southerners to not only the Supreme Court but he also had them gathered around him in his cabinet." Joseph pointed out.

"If that's not obvious, I'm not sure what is."

"In what way are the members of his cabinet of any consequence of his agreement for or against slavery?"

"He's buying votes with his cabinet positions. He's appeasing the southerners into a sense of security in order to gain reelection. It's a purely political move." A small amount of disgust filled Thomas' voice as he formed the words in his mouth.

David gaffed under his breath, taking a sip of his port. "So are you saying that Clay is a better choice?"

"I don't believe either of them is going to be a choice America wants to make. Neither of them is for the annexation of Texas, and that is going to be the deciding factor of this election."

"Joseph's right, it seems as the majority of Americans believe that annexation is a good thing." James said with a nod.

"As they should." David interjected. "The Texans even want to become American citizens, what better way for them to obtain citizenship and us to gain more land."

The annexation of Texas was a hot topic among most Americans at the time and could not have been felt more differently among the four men gathered in the little study discussing the topics of the day. Each man was passionate about his own view, but not so in a way that they refused to listen to the ideas of each other. However, even as the word "annexation" was released into the room one could feel the air stiffen and grow uncomfortable as each man shifted looking from one to another.

"But can we just walk in and take the land from another country?" The thought was one that truly bothered James. He wasn't sure if he was comfortable with the government acting that aggressively, and knowing that there most certainly would be repercussions for those actions.

"Texas doesn't belong to Mexico anymore. They see themselves as an independent country and therefore should be able to do whatever they please and if that is joining America then so be it."

James chuckled and nodded over to his law partner, "Thomas, you sound like a Founding Father. Working on their Declaration, are you?" Everyone in the room seemed to laugh as the joke hit its mark, releasing the tension in the room. Even Thomas smiled a little and, if at all possible, blushed before seeking to turn the attention from himself. His eyes rested on Joseph.

"What do you think, Joseph? Is Texas her own country or does she still belong to Mexico?" Joseph merely frowned. Things never were as black and white as we wished for them to be. This topic was no different.

"Unfortunately there isn't a simple answer to that question. If Texas is independent then she should do whatever she likes and that should be respected, however Mexico's refusal to acknowledge this could be disastrous for America. I'm not sure another war is what we need at the moment. More importantly, though is the effect that this decision would have on us." He pauses slightly to gaze around the room. David Lewis, already anticipating the words that would come next was already nodding solemnly in agreement. "If Texas becomes a state she will undoubtedly be brought in as a slave state, throwing off the balance in Congress and reopening old wounds. It would cause nothing but dissention between the North and the South."

"Are you saying that we should no longer seek to add states to our Union?" Thomas asked, unsure of what he was hearing. "Because no matter what we do they will throw off representation in Congress." As the younger man spoke Joseph's brow furrowed, attempting to select his words carefully to explain what he was trying to say.

"I'm saying that we need to fix one problem before we add to it. Slavery should be abolished first." As Joseph finished what he had to say, the grandfather clock in the foyer began to strike nine, announcing that it was getting to be bedtime for some people in his house. Finishing his drink, Joseph moved to the edge of his seat before standing. "If you will excuse me for just a moment gentlemen. I believe I'm needed elsewhere at the moment." He smiled and nodded to each man before turning to leave. As he past Thomas, Joseph reached out to clap the younger man on the back, who returned the gesture.

"Say hello to Michaela for me." Thomas smiled before turning his attention back to James, who had already restarted the conversation.

As Joseph left his study, he turned to shut the door firmly behind him before heading for the stairs. However, as he turned back around Joseph jumped, startled by an unexpected figure sitting in the darkened corner of the foyer.

"Michaela," his voice held an air of warning as he leaned against the wall. "You know how I feel about eaves dropping." Even though he couldn't see her face in the shadow of the staircase, he instinctively knew the pale shade of pink that tinted her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Father."She whispered. "I just was going to the kitchen for a drink of water…" she lifted the glass up to him as proof of the truth in her words. "And I heard everyone talking and I thought it was very interesting what they were saying about Mr. Van Buren and Mr. Clay."

"Ah, politics…" Joseph turned for the stairs leaving Michaela to quickly scurry behind him. When she did catch up to him, Joseph reached out to ruffle her hair. "It's a very messy and confusing business, but one that is absolutely necessary."

"So is our only choice between Mr. Van Buren and Mr. Clay?"

"Well not yet. First, each political party must select who they want to be their candidate."

"When will they do that?"

"Sometime in the spring and then we'll elected the new President in November."

"Oh." Michaela said simply, thoughtfully lifted her glass to her lips as she continued to her room. Her eyes lowered to the ground, following the designs in the carpet as she thought about what he had said. Joseph, in turned allowed them to fall silent, although he glanced over to her every so often, trying to distinguish what is was exactly that she was thinking.

"So what do you think about what you heard." Joseph asked once they had reached Michaela's room. She was still climbing into the bed and pulling the covers over her chilled legs.

"Um…" She struggled to think as she pulled the quilts around her shoulders and tucked her hands under her knees. As the bedclothes began to soften around her, Michaela began to warm up. "I don't really know what I think. What everyone was saying about Texas is really interesting. It would be neat to have a new state and it should be ok if the people that live in Texas are allowed to do what they want, but if Texas becoming a state will make other people made I don't know if it's a good idea."

"Ah, that's why it's very important to elect someone who you trust and who you think will make the best decisions."

Michaela frowned. She wasn't entirely sure that she understood everything she had heard. Everything was just so big and confusing and Michaela wasn't sure that she would ever truly understand how everything worked. She couldn't comprehend how countries interacted for example. How can one area call itself a country and someone else say that it wasn't?

"How do you know if they'll do the best thing?"

"Well you listen to what they have to say, and you decide if you agree."

"And how do you know if you agree?"

"Well you do some reading and learn about the pro and cons of a situation." Joseph was surprised that Michaela was so interested in this, although he wasn't sure why. She always was curious about the things that were happening around her, why would politics be any different? Even now, when it was well past her bedtime, her eyes glistened with intrigue. "How about in the morning, over breakfast I'll explain some more to you, but for now you must go to sleep." Joseph pushed on her arm a little in an effort to get her to lay back.

Although Michaela was a little disappointed that she couldn't stay up while they could talk, she knew that tomorrow she could ask all the questions she wanted to. Her heart beat a little fast with the excitement of learning something new. It was as if a new part of the world had been opened to her, and she couldn't wait until she got to explore it all.

* * *

"And apparently the entire election could be decided on whether or not the candidates support annexation, and Father says that someone else will come into play eventually because neither Van Buren or Clay supports annexation." Michaela sank down onto a pillow on the floor and looked up at Miriam, watching her expectantly for a smile, a nod, anything that would indicate interest on Miriam's face. Unfortunately, the same grin of excitement that ached across Michaela's cheeks never crossed the other girl's face. Instead, Miriam sat dumbly, staring at her friend waiting for her to continue speaking. "So, what do you think?" Michaela decided to prompt a conversation if it wasn't going to start on its own.

Much to Michaela's disdain, Miriam only shrugged. "I've heard Robert and David talk about it before, but I haven't paid it much attention."

"Why not? It's so important to know these things."

"Why?"

Michaela nearly choked. "Because you need to be able to talk about these topics and understand what's happening in order to know how to fix the problems we have.

Miriam, ever the down to earth mind just shook her head. "Were not going to fix those problems anyway. What's the point in trying to understand everything if we can't even vote." In all honesty, with the excitement of learning what her father had explained to her that morning, Michaela had not once considered the fact that she couldn't vote, that the things she knew and believed wouldn't be heard. A little disappointment seemed to slip into her mind, weighing her down and pulling her back to earth. However, she didn't want Miriam to know that, with a simple shrug of her shoulders Michaela simply brushed it aside.

"There are other ways to make a difference than to vote."

_Yes, but the same reason we can't vote is the same thing that prevents us from making a difference. We're girls._ That's what Miriam wanted to say, but she knew Michaela well enough to know that they wouldn't do anything for the rest of the day if she brought up that now. So, she changed the subject. Bouncing up from her seat, Miriam reached for her doll before turning back to Michaela. "What do you want for your birthday? It's a little over a week away, you know."

Michaela was still flustered and merely lowered her eyes. "It doesn't matter," she mumbled.

"Oh come on, yes it does! You better tell me what you'd like and I'll have mother give you and Dr. Quinn tickets to the flower show for your birthday!" Miriam laughed at the way Michaela seemed to flinch under the threat. Michaela too laughed although she didn't really want to.

"Um… well…"

"Michaela you're stalling."

"No I'm not, I'm thinking. Is it wrong that I can't think of anything I want for my birthday?"

"I don't think so, but I don't think it's exactly normal." Again, Miriam smiled and Michaela giggled too.

"Well, the only thing I can think of is a chest set. Father told me he would teach me to play if we had one, but I think he forgot."

"See that wasn't so hard." Miriam laughed before standing. "Let's do something now."

"Alright, what do you want to do?"

"I challenge you to a game of grace in the backyard. Are up for the challenge Michaela Anne Quinn?" Miriam teased and Michaela merely rolled her eyes.

"Well, it will be difficult but I believe I shall try."

* * *

Here's Chapter 16! We're making more progress guys. I hope you enjoyed this and Happy Thanksgiving!


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

"_I wanted to tell you that I had a wonderful time tonight, Marjorie."Benjamin whispered as he leaned forward. Marjorie could feel her heart beat a little faster in her chest as his warm breath spread across her face, warming the tip of her nose against the cold night air. She shivered slightly. "Are you alright?" Benjamin asked, feeling her shudder. Reaching around her, he pulled the heavy coat tightly across her shoulders, tucking her into a safe, warm place. Marjorie bit her lip to keep from smiling._

"_I'm fine; it's just a little cold." Benjamin chuckled, his face merely inches from hers and for a split second Marjorie wanted to know what it was like to feel those lips on hers. Daring to encourage her young beau, Marjorie took a step closer bravely closing her eyes only to have a loud grunt shake her from her trance. Embarrassed, Marjorie heard her own nervous laughter. "I'm sorry."_

"_No, it's fine. That's what she's here for, right?" Benjamin asked, shooting a look over Marjorie's shoulder to where the middle-aged chaperone stood next to the door. She had her arms crossed across her chest and her face puckered into a sour expression. "No wonder she looks so disagreeable. I bet she never got called on when she was coming out and now here she has to chaperone other beautiful young ladies." Benjamin whispered through his laughter and smiled as Marjorie laughed too. His compliment hit its mark, but Marjorie decided to ignore it._

"_I think that's mean, Benjamin."_

"_It may be mean, but I think it's the truth." Marjorie laughed once again as she braved a glance behind at the older woman, but before she could a loud whack crashed through the air._

A sharp pain cracked across Marjorie's shoulder as the straight edge of a ruler made contact with her back. The pain was enough to shake Marjorie from her reverie.

"Ah!" Marjorie turned to find Ms. McClellan, her history teacher, standing behind her wielding the evil ruler in a hand balanced on her hip.

"Ladies do not lay sprawled across their desk with their chin on their hands." Ms. McClellan's harsh alto commanded as she poked at Marjorie until the girl sat up straight. Ms. McClellan frowned, almost a judgmental look.

Marjorie was slightly mortified once she realized that every girl in class was looking at her, some with smirks on their face and others with concerned, sympathetic looks (Sarah fell into this category). Blushing deeply, she slowly straightened her posture and glanced around her. Her school slate, that was supposed to be used for her note taking, was completely decorated with intricate designs and squiggles. Conscious of her teacher's remaining presence behind her, Marjorie subtly slide her hands over her slate, protecting it from the view of prying eyes.

"Well, Miss Quinn? Do you have an answer for us?"

"I'm sorry would you repeat the question."

"Why didn't Thomas Jefferson sign the Constitution of the United States of America?" Marjorie sat stunned. She had absolutely no idea. In fact, she didn't even realize that Jefferson hadn't signed the Constitution.

"I'm not sure…" She lowered her voice and her eyes along with it, having no desire to see the disappointed look in Ms. McClellan's eyes.

"Well, how about you find the answer to that question and write a one page paper on the topic. Everyone else can read the next chapter in their books in preparation for the next class period." With a wave of a hand, the girls were dismissed for the weekend and everyone jumped up at once to scurry out of the room.

"Did you have a nice little nap, Marjorie?" The girls cackled as they left the room one by one, but Marjorie merely brushed the teasing aside and sighed.

"Marjorie what were you thinking?" Sarah asked making her way over to her friend who was gathering her books into her arms.

"I don't know. I was just lost in thought."

"About?" Marjorie's cheeks instantly reddened. She wasn't sure if she wanted to speak her daydreams out loud. She felt so foolish.

"Um… well about tonight with the boys coming. I was just lost in thought." Sarah immediately saw through everything and caught Marjorie by the arm. Dragging her to the side, she found a little bench in the hallway where they could talk.

"Is everything ok?" Her eyes lowered with concern.

"Yes, it's fine. It's just…" Marjorie took a breath and turned toward her friend, hoping not to find teasing in her friend's eyes. Yet she knew instantly that it was ridiculous to think this way. If there was anything that she could be certain of, it was that Sarah would never judge her. "I was thinking about the boys and what it would be like tonight. Benjamin and I were laughing and we almost kissed, but our chaperone, which looked strangely like Ms. McClellan, stopped us." Marjorie knew she was blushing to admit something so foolish. "It's stupid, I know, but just a little day dream I had."

"Well it's not stupid."

"You don't think so?"

"No, because I've done the same thing! Honestly Marjorie, we're young women who will have our coming out within the next few years. It's completely normal to think about boys."

"Well, if you think it's normal…" Sarah just laughed.

"Well I think you better put your day dreaming to better uses. We need to decide what to wear tonight!"

* * *

It seemed as though the closer Michaela's birthday approached, the more she was reminded of the grand benefits of _not _growing up. Good heavens! There were so many rules to remember and Michaela in all seriousness began to think that she never would learn them all. It seemed as though the things that came naturally to her were the things that Mr. Johnson reprimanded her for. Before Christmas, there had been that incident with her chasing the boy from across the street. Two weeks ago, when she was running late for school she slipped on the icy sidewalk and went gliding into a mud puddle. She had had to wear the evidence of her unruly behavior all day (not that it bothered the child much). It seemed to Michaela that after that she was watched extra carefully. Mr. Johnson was always standing behind her ready to correct her posture.

"A lady stands on her own two feet." He commanded, eyeing Michaela as she stood waiting for her turn to play hopscotch. She had been resting her weight on one leg with her hip cocked to one side.

A few days later, she was corrected in front of the class because she was talking with her hands. Then she was overheard talking with great opinion over politicians. Each of her actions seemed to bring retribution from her teacher causing her to leave school embarrassed and ashamed. However, her feelings only lasted as long as it took her to make it home before falling away in the excitement of afternoon activities. Joseph never saw anything but his smiling little girl when he returned from work and her enthusiasm didn't diminish until the next morning when she faced her return to school.

It wasn't that she no longer enjoyed school. Not at all. She was excelling through arithmetic and English. Her French was coming along nicely and she was always enthralled in history. However, something began to bother Michaela. It started with just a small little nagging in the back of her mind. No one ever was corrected about their posture or their topics of conversation. None of the girls were reprimanded that they were too opinionated and wild. Once on their way home from school, Michaela asked Miriam how she remembered all the rules that seemed to be pilling on top of them. Miriam had just stared at her blankly. "I don't suppose I've ever thought of them as rules before. It's just what I do. It comes naturally to me." Michaela simply frowned. What were you supposed to do if it didn't come naturally to you?

Despite her difficulties at school, Michaela enjoyed her days, attacking anything and everything with the same exuberance as she always did.

"Miss Michaela! Dr. Quinn is home!" Martha's shriveled accented voice called through the house, echoing off the walls as it reached to Michaela. The girl shuddered. The eerie thing about Martha was that she always seemed to be everywhere at once. She had eyes in all corners of the Quinn home and she seemed to be able to summon Michaela from the very next room even though she was all the way in the kitchen. It was just the way Martha was, and somehow Michaela couldn't imagine her being any other way.

Hoping up from where she was playing with her dolls on her bedroom floor she left to meet her father as she always did on the days that he worked late. She buzzed down the hallways and toward the stairs and as she reached the banister, her instinctive impulse took over. (Often times Michaela's biggest mistakes came from action on what immediately popped into her head.) As she reached for the wooden railing, she swung herself onto the banister and allowed herself to glide down to where her father was shrugging out of his coat.

Once she had stopped at the bottom, Michaela heard the hefty throng of Joseph's laughter, but turned to find Martha staring at her agape.

"Miss Quinn, what comes into your mind, you sliding down the banister showing your knickers for all to see? Why you must be mighty pleased that your father didn't deem it necessary to bring one of his colleagues home this evening." Joseph just continued to laugh as he reached up to swing Michaela from her pedestal.

"Oh Martha leave her be. If you can't act like a child when you are a child when are you to do it?" And then he turned to Michaela, smiling at her with a glint in his eye that warmed her inside and out. "She has spunk that won't be killed that easily." He winked at her and Michaela smiled, feeling as though they shared a little secret. "How was your day at school today, my love?"

"It was nice. I won a game of hopscotch today at recess. That means I get to pick the game for tomorrow."

"Oh and have you decided on what it will be?"

"I think I'd like to play hide and seek."

"Well I suppose that would be a fine suggestion." Joseph led Michaela into the dining room and pulled a chair out for her before sitting himself. He was always doing little things like that for her and it always made Michaela like a lady deep down inside. She was often left wondering how she could feel like a lady when she was around her father and yet everyone else seemed to be in agreement that she was not ladylike at all. She never really spoke her thoughts out loud, though.

"What about you, Father? How was the hospital today?"

"It was very nice. There weren't any emergencies or surgeries."

"I can tell you had a good day." Michaela nodded as if she shared common knowledge, though she waited for her father to ask more. He didn't disappoint her.

"And how do you know that?"

"Because you always laugh when you're home after a good day. Other days you'll smile, but you won't laugh." Children always notice so much more than what adults realize, and Joseph had to smile.

"Well, I did have a good day today, and I had plenty of time to sit and think and I realized that someone has a birthday in about a week and she hasn't told me a think in the world of what she would like." Joseph smiled secretively as he watched Michaela blush.

"It doesn't matter at all. I was trying to think of something for Miriam the other day and I couldn't name a single thing!" Joseph gasped.

"Not a thing. Well that is a sad day." He teased lightly and shared a candid laugh. In all actuality, Joseph didn't need any hints, he already had his plans for her birthday, but it never hurt to ask.

* * *

As with all children, the next week passed very quickly for Michaela. Before she knew it, she was already at Wednesday and was completely surprised that she only had two more days before her birthday on Friday, but she tried to contain her excitement. Instead, she tried to brush off the attention lavished upon her by Miriam. However, that task become more and more difficult as the week progressed.

On Wednesday, Michaela was met by a smiling Miriam carrying a rather large box, wrapped.

"Oh wow," one of the girls whispered as she and other came bobbling over to where Michaela and Miriam stood. "What's the occasion?"

Michaela blushed under the eyes of everyone else. "My birthday is on Friday." She explained softly and found that as she looked around at all the girls who never seemed to pay her any attention, she realized they were all smiling at her. All of Michaela's classmates at school thought the youngest Quinn daughter was so interesting. Yes, each of them had heard from their mothers about the "poor Dr. Quinn" forced to raise his daughters alone, and they had learned that Michaela was a sweet "motherless creature" whose "antics should be all but ignored because she had no women to teach her these things," but the girls didn't see anything wrong with Michaela at all. She was quite, a little too quite to hold their attention sometimes, but she was funny and smart. She was the best one to ask for help on homework, and perhaps the most imaginative one of any of them.

"Oh Happy Birthday!" They all sang to her as they encouraged her to sit and open her present.

Sitting amongst the gaggle of girls Michaela felt her senses overload as everyone talked about everything at once.

Miriam beamed as Michaela gingerly reached for the ends of the wrapped box and all the girls held their breath as if it were their own birthday. "Oh for heaven's sakes Michaela just rip it!" Miriam laughed as she watched her friend carefully unfold the edges of the wrapping paper.

"Patience is a virtue." Michaela quipped, repeating what was perhaps the only proverb the she ever remembered of Martha's. As she managed to unwrap the present, an audible gasp spread through the crowd. It was a beautiful mahogany box. "Oh Miriam it's gorgeous!" Michaela whispered unlatching the hinges and opening to find a thick handcrafted chess set. "Thank you."

"Do you know how to play Michaela?" Emily Wilkerson asked leaning forward to examine the beautiful statuette pieces.

"I don't yet, but Father promised to teach me."

"Then you should teach the rest of us." Jenny Sills threw in. Most of the girls gathered around Michaela didn't have fathers that would teach them to play games like chess.

"I could do that."

"You wouldn't mind?"

"Of course not!" Michaela smiled. She had never really interacted with the girls in her class; really, she just kept to herself because she could feel a distinct difference between them and herself. Yet, as they all sat in front of the school all the differences, the curious glances and lighthearted gossip fell away and Michaela felt as though she could belong. Perhaps that feeling wouldn't last long, maybe not any further than this afternoon, but Michaela enjoyed the feeling nonetheless. Shifting the case to the ground next to her, Michaela changed the subject.

"Let's play a game." A murmur ran through the crowd.

"What should we play?" "Anyone have any ideas?" "Let's let Michaela pick, she's the birthday girl." And it was settled. Michaela chose Simon says, and they all scurried to their places, leaving the gracefully carved chess box on the steps of the school patiently waiting for their return.

* * *

_I hope you all enjoyed chapter 17! Please let me know what you think! Happy THanksgiving..._


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

_Tap… tap… tap…tap. _Marjorie watched the dark ink dripped from the tip of her dip pen each time she tapped the instrument against the edge of her ink well. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do. She stared at what little she had written so far and frowned before balling up the paper and throwing it behind her. Why was she even trying? Why did she even care?

"Hey Marjorie." Sarah wandered into the room to find Marjorie slumped back in her chair staring at the wall. The tapping continued. "You disappeared after class today. I was wondering where you went."

Marjorie looked briefly to her friend before returning her gaze to the blank pages before her with a sigh. She tilted her head to one side. "I was just sitting here trying to decide whether or not to write Michaela."

Sarah stopped mid motion and stared at her friend. She had never honestly heard Marjorie speak openly about her sister, much less allude to any communication between the two of them. Shocked, Sarah couldn't help but smile. Perhaps Marjorie was turning a new leaf; maybe she had decided that she and Michaela could be sisters, or even better, friends. Sarah couldn't help but feel a mixture of pride and happiness for her best friend.

"Really? You're thinking about writing Michaela?" She asked, lifting her skirts in order to sit comfortably on her bed. Marjorie instantly blushed, slightly embarrassed to be caught in her dilemma. She shrugged as if it was no big deal.

"Well her birthday is on Friday. I was thinking that if I wrote to her now, it would be late, but it's supposed to be the thought, right?" Sarah smiled. This was a much bigger deal than what Marjorie was letting on.

Since Christmas, there had been something different in the way Marjorie felt about Michaela, but she couldn't quite place those feelings. Late at night after she crawled under her covers and slowly felt her body warm, her mind drifted back to Christmas, back to her house, and her room. For the first time in a long time, she could distinctly smell the warm cinnamon scent of Martha's Christmas breakfast. Sometimes it was real enough to bring tears to her eyes. It was the closest they had ever come to sharing something similar to what Sarah and her family had, and even then, the Quinn family seemed to fall terribly short.

Nothing seemed to change about the way Marjorie saw her father. She still saw the Joseph as an impossibly arrogant man who was all talk and little action; and more importantly, Marjorie saw him as the real reason for her mother's death. If he had really loved his wife, he would have been content with his five healthy daughters and not set upon having a son. If he had really loved his family, He never would have taken all of them to Virginia where something could go so terribly wrong. If he had really loved her, he would have come to her and told her about her mother's death instead of letting Maureen do it while he was down the hallway with a sleeping Michaela.

Marjorie tried not to think of these things. She didn't want to remember that day or the years following. She didn't want to relive the quite train ride back to Boston or the first day at Ms Peabody's. Yet, late at night when she was really tired, Marjorie couldn't stop herself. The ghosts of the past came to visit her.

Since her trip home for Christmas Marjorie's ghost had come in the form of Michaela. Marjorie could still see her little sister on Christmas day standing next to her desk offering her arithmetic book. _"Just because I'm good at it doesn't mean that I want to do it all the time like you. Believe it or not I do have a life and friends and we do things other than study__."_ Marjorie's own words echoed through her mind, but that wasn't what bothered her. For a moment, a split second she saw the hurt flash across her sister's face before disappearing under her pride. Marjorie could easily identify it as the same hurt she often felt when she was all alone, but in an instant it was gone and Michaela had left her alone. That was the only part of the visit home that Marjorie could have regretted, but she refused to linger on it for any given amount of time.

Still, Marjorie found herself sitting here, staring at a blank paper trying to decide what to say to a sister she hardly knew.

"I think Michaela would enjoy a letter from you." Sarah said smiling. "In fact I'll say it's bound to be the highlight of her birthday." Marjorie had to smile at her friend's certainty. Somehow, she didn't think that Michaela would much care. After all Michaela would have a day filled with whatever little luxury their father chose to bestow upon her and the gifts that Rebecca and Claudette helped with. Whatever little letter she sent would get lost in the theatrics of the day. Marjorie sighed.

"You know, I'm not going to do this now." She turned her attention to Sarah, her mind travelling through all the things she could be doing instead of being stuck in her room for the afternoon. Finally, she settled on something. "Let's take a walk through the grounds."

"Marjorie, it's freezing outside. It even snowed yesterday."

"Then we can build a snowman." The red headed girl bounced up from her chair and across the room to where her outer clothes hung. Sarah frowned.

"Aren't you going to finish writing to Michaela?" Marjorie turned to look at the papers she left on the desk and the scraps of attempts that scattered the floor. She had no idea how to relate to Michaela and what's more, Marjorie knew her sister wouldn't miss her. After all, she had everyone else to celebrate with. Shrugging her shoulders, Marjorie brushed off Sarah's comment.

"Maybe I'll do it later. I'll think about it." Somehow, Sarah knew that this meant that there would be no letters sent to the Quinn household from Ms. Peabody's.

* * *

It had reached that time in the afternoon when time seemed to stand absolutely still. The long hand on the clock facing sat patiently on the eleven and made no move to continue its journey to the twelve. It seemed like a cruel joke and Michaela wasn't laughing. She wasn't doing anything really except stare at the clock. She swung her legs back and forth wildly as she turned her stare back to the McGuffie reader laid open before her, but she saw only black ink on a white page.

Today was Friday, February 15 1844 and it was her birthday. Michaela was eleven. She had woken up early this morning, at nearly three, so she could watch the precise moment she turned eleven years old. Fifteen minutes later, she had fallen asleep in her armchair, with mirror still in hand. (Joseph found this particularly amusing and had teased her about it for most of the morning, lovingly of course.) It had been rather disappointing as Michaela went throughout her day with the knowledge that it was her birthday, and that no one else could tell. It seemed to her that there should be something to wear on your birthday, like a sign or a special color so everyone you passed knew that it was your special day. Another disappointment of the day was that nothing was different from how it was the day before. Eleven didn't _feel_ different than ten. She didn't look different and she certainly didn't act or think differently, and so by the end of the day Michaela was wondering about the reason for having a birthday at all. It was an idea she had yet to pin down, and yet as she tried the shrieking cry of Mr. Johnson's hand bell signaled the end of class.

Many of the girls groaned as they gathered all of their books, others were already packed and simply dashed out of the door. Michaela was a little more sluggish, rubbing at her eyes as she slid from her seat.

"It's finally over." Miriam huffed, appearing next to Michaela's desk with her books in arm.

"I thought it would never end." Michaela groaned finally straightening. She yawned which made Miriam laugh.

"You can't get sleepy now, missy. You have a long night ahead of you." She spoke before she thought and still hadn't realized she had said anything until she turned to see the look of suspicion written across Michaela's face. _Uh oh._

"What do you mean I have a long night ahead of me?" Miriam just turned to walk away. "Wait! Miriam Hathwell, what do you know?"

"Nothing, well maybe a little that I overheard Mother saying, but I'm not saying anything else." She pursed her lips together determined to keep her word.

"Miriam…" Michaela warned, but it was already too late; they were already outside. At the bottom of the stairs, Miriam spontaneously turned and kissed Michaela on the cheek, surprising the other girl with her sudden movement.

"Have a wonderful birthday." Miriam whispered before smiling. She knew something and that simple fact irked Michaela, but before she could interrogate her friend any more, Miriam had run away, jogging down the walkway leaving Michaela behind to watch. Mike frowned. What was she supposed to do now, walk home by herself? She huffed and watched as her breath danced away from her.

"Michaela!" The little girl startled to hear her name and instinctively turned to see who was still here.

Across the street, parked in front of the boys school was a solid black carriage. Michaela recognized it instantly as the Blackstone carriage even long before she saw Rebecca smiling from the window. Hastily Michaela ran toward her sister (partly out of excitement and also because the coldness was seeping through her outer coat).

"Rebecca, what are you doing here?" Rebecca smiled at her youngest sister's excitement as she clamored into the carriage. Michaela's cheeks were flushed and she breathed heavily as she settled down next to her sister.

"I thought I would pick you up from school and we could spend a little time together before Father came to get you."

"Really? Just us?"

"Just us. Tommy and Randy are at Mr. and Mrs. Blackstone's this weekend and I thought we could have a little girl time."

Michaela considered Rebecca's words for a moment before nodding vigorously. "That sounds nice." Although she wasn't quite sure, what 'girl time' constituted as. She did, however, see the way Rebecca smiled triumphantly at her and settled back against the edge of the carriage.

"Wonderful."

* * *

The front door swung open even before Michaela and Rebecca reached the front stoop of the brownstone home. The warmth from the lit fireplaces radiated from the house like a cloud inviting visitors to come in and stay awhile. Michaela loved her oldest sister's house. It was always so comfortable and homey, a sanctuary from the outside world second only to her own home.

"Hello Mrs. Blackstone. Miss Michaela, happy birthday." The Blackstone's butler, Peter greeted them taking Rebecca's coat before turning to retrieve Michaela's winter wear.

"Thank you very much Peter." Michaela chirped, brightly causing the older man to chuckle. It was a rare occasion that the sweetness of children filled the Blackstone home. Yes Thomas and Rebecca had their boys, but boys are very different that girls. On normal occasions, the house was filled with the boy's high-pitched screeches and loud running across the floor. When Michaela came over, she introduced sweet smiles and lighthearted laughter to the occupants of the house. Peter could remember the late nights when she was younger and her father had to work. She often came to stay with Mr. and Mrs. Blackstone for the night. Those nights of rocking and cuddling before bed were replaced with sleepy wanderings and exasperated sighs once Tommy was born. Needless to say, Peter, as well as the rest of the Blackstone servants, held a special place in their hearts for Michaela.

"Peter, would you please let Linda know that we are home and see that she prepares for a bath." Rebecca nodded before taking Michaela's hand and leading her upstairs. She skillfully managed to ignore Michaela's questioning glare until they made it to the little guest room that Michaela had frequented on numerous occasions. (In fact, the child had stayed there so often, she actually thought of the room as her own.) Finally, with her hand on the knob, Rebecca finally turned to her sister and smiled. "Father had some special things planned for tonight and I thought that before that you might like a day a primping." With a turn of her wrist, the door floated open.

Michaela wandered in and immediately scanned the room. A nickel washtub sat in the corner surrounded by a table filled with oils and salts. Hairpieces and pins were spread across the top of the vanity and on the bed lay a beautiful blue gown. Awestruck, Michaela sauntered over to the bed and fingered the edge of the dress. She wasn't quite sure what to say.

"Thank you." She turned to her sister with a bright smile and received a kiss on the top of her head.

"Happy birthday little sister." Rebecca ran her arms along the length of Michaela's as she organized everything in her mind. Their moment of solitude however was interrupted by Linda who entered the room carrying an oversized kettle.

"Are you ready for a nice warm bath, Miss Michaela? Oh, it is chilly in here. First let's get a fire going so you don't freeze in the mean time."

* * *

"It smells so lovely." Michaela commented against her wrist before taking another whiff of the flowery scent of her skin. Rebecca only smiled as she watched her sister through the mirror.

"I don't suppose I ever considered the fact that Father doesn't keep lavender bath salts in the house." She answered, pulling tightly on a handful of Michaela's hair in order to pin it in the proper places. For once in her life, Michaela was quietly allowing her oldest sister to pull and tug on her hair without a complaint in sight. The secret was in the bath salts that kept Michaela distracted as she continuously pushed back the oversized sleeves of the bathrobe she was wearing in order to smell her skin. Soon, before the girl even had time to tire and grow bored of sitting in one place for too long (her usual complaint when someone was trying to do her hair) she was done and Rebecca was left smoothing everything down. "There, that's looks beautiful."

Michaela turned her head to one side and then the other in an attempt to see all Rebecca had accomplished. The feather tresses were curled into ringlets and draped back to be tied in different places. It was quite becoming and fashionable, but it was also very presentable for Michaela's age. "How on earth did you do that?" Michaela asked utterly astonished, mouth hanging open. Rebecca had to laugh at the open admiration of her work.

"It is much easier to do someone else's hair than to do your own I assure you." Taking a few loose strands, Rebecca instantly dipped her finger in the lemon juice mixture sitting on the counter and stuck them back in place. "It looks lovely on you."

Suddenly the door swung open and Linda stuck her head into the room. "Dr. Quinn has arrived."

"Oh my, we're not quite ready yet. Please tell him I'll be down in just a moment." Rebecca spoke quickly as she made her way to the door. As soon as Linda had left, she shut the door and leaned on the heavy wood. She looked at her younger sister with big eyes, making Michaela laugh in the process. "Let's get you dressed!"

Fifteen minutes later Rebecca made her way downstairs to meet her father, who was sitting in the parlor having an interesting discussion with Thomas. She had to smile when she saw the two of them together discussing this or that. There was a mutual understanding between the two men that made them extend past the hollow bond of an in law relationship to that of family and even friends.

Stepping into the room, Rebecca commanded the attention from both men, who immediately stood at her presence.

"Father!" She laughed, wrapping her arms around him in a comfortable hug.

"Rebecca, you look lovely this evening. Thomas was just telling me that you two were without children for a few days."

"Yes, but the frightening thing is that it is far too quiet in this house now. I keep getting up in the middle of the night to check on the boys because I forget their not here."

"I must say I've gotten used to the quietness a little quicker than she has." Thomas threw in with a laugh. When the gentle laughter had died down, Rebecca patted her father on the arm and led him to sit once more.

"Michaela will be down shortly. She's just added the finishing touches."

"Oh heavens, Rebecca what have you done to her?" Joseph laughed. Michaela was never one to pamper herself and indulge in getting dressed up, but when Joseph had mentioned his plans for her birthday, Rebecca had been eager to add her own flare to the night. She had been certain that Michaela would enjoy a little pampering while Joseph hadn't been so sure, but that didn't mean he was going to deny Rebecca her present to Michaela. Now it seemed as though he could have been wrong.

"I haven't done a thing. There is just something inherent in all women that enjoys a nice bath every once in a while." Rebecca rolled her eyes playfully before adding. "In fact I almost think that I had more fun than her. She reminds me what it was like to be eleven and discovering everything for the first time."

"Do you wish you could go back?"

"I don't think so, but I enjoy watching her." Her voice trailed off as she gazed over at Thomas' smiling face. Perhaps one of these days she would have a daughter of her own to teach and watch as she grew into adulthood. Clearing her thought from far away dream Rebecca turned her attention back to her father. "What are you taking her to go see tonight?"

"_The Taming of the Shrew._" Joseph said with a slight smile. He elicited almost a complete chuckle from Thomas who, of course, saw the irony there. Rebecca on the other had just brushed everything off.

"And you'll have dinner before hand?"

"Of course." Just as Joseph started to elaborate even more about his plans for the evening, the three adults were interrupted by the light click of heals against the marble flooring of the foyer. Joseph and Rebecca stood to move toward where they knew Michaela would be.

"Father!" Michaela cried, seeing the doctor for the first time that day. As he bent down to her, she hugged his neck, looking and sounding much like Rebecca had only minutes before.

"My you look beautiful." He smiled. "I'm not entirely sure that you're my Michaela though. You look different, so grown up!" Michaela lowered her brow and proper her hand on one hip.

"Well I am eleven today…" She grinned slyly at him. "And Rebecca helped me get dressed. She did my hair and everything."

"Well she did a beautiful job." Joseph smiled over at his eldest who seemed to be beaming.

"He's right. You look beautiful Michaela." Thomas interjected leaning against the doorframe. Michaela blushed.

"Thank you."

"Oh and we have one more thing to round out the ensemble." Rebecca reached for a tiny object lying on a side table. "I'll let you borrow it for the evening. It matches your dress too beautifully not to." She whispered in Michaela's ear as she bent over her, laying a golden chain with a simple charm across her throat. Michaela's hand immediately flew to her neck and she felt the new object that lay there.

"Thank you." She whispered back before planting a kiss to her sister's cheek.

Rebecca straightened. "Well, you two must get on your way. Dinner won't wait." She leaned in to kiss her father before guiding them to the door. With a single click, the father and daughter had disappeared and Rebecca turned to see Thomas standing behind her. He smiled brilliantly at her.

"I believe you just made that child's birthday one of the most memorable she'll ever have." Rebecca blushed under his intense stair as he crossed the room to give her a gentle kiss.

* * *

Michaela took a deep breath, subconsciously enjoying the mixture of crisp linen and lavender perfume. She smiled in her sleep, her eyes never opening, and rolled over onto her stomach. Nuzzling the soft down of her pillow, Michaela finally managed to open her eyes before snapping them shut once more. While she stretched her rested limbs, she tried to remember everything from the night before. It was almost like a dream, all the bits were blurred and fuzzy in her sleep-filled mind, but eventually everything began to meld into a single story once more.

After they had left Rebecca's, Joseph had taken Michaela to a new restaurant called Montague. Michaela thought the name especially intriguing due to the fact that she had recently read _Romeo and Juliet_ and expressed her approval once she and her father had been seated. Interesting enough, the restaurant served French cuisine, which wasn't something that Michaela had been exposed too much, but she was willing to eat anything once. Since Mr. Johnson had been helping her perfect her French, she had become rather adept at the language (although Carolyn Tromble still held the highest marks in the class). Therefore, Michaela had managed to translate her menu and decide on her own dish, but she let her father order for them, and smiled as she heard his bright tenor form the syllables of his immaculate French. She could even go as far as to say that she was proud of him. That was her Father who looked so handsome and ordered all the good food.

When the first course arrived, Michaela couldn't help but stare at the little plate in horror. Were those shells? Trying not to let her thoughts play across her face, (she wasn't as successful as she'd hoped) she bent over the table trying to figure out what exactly had been put before them.

"There is something I want you to try." Joseph started, already guarding against the look of horror in his daughter's eyes.

"What is it?" Her voice was flat.

"It's called escargot."

"Es… car…goe." She repeated nodding before frowning. "It looks like snails." Joseph let out a hearty chuckle. She had no idea, but he didn't want to admit that before she had taken a bite.

"Well, try one." His hands worked quickly to extricate the slimy, green meat from the shell, almost, Michaela mused, as though he were actually performing surgery, before offering the little fork to her. She wasted no time in popping the morsel into her mouth having learned that often times the anticipation of eating something new was worse than the actual deed. However, much to Michaela's astonishment she actually enjoyed what she tasted. The garlic and butter filled her mouth and accompanied that soft chewiness of the meat. Laying the fork back down, she swallowed before offering a bright smile.

"That's delicious!"

"I'm glad you think so; I must say I agree with you." Joseph smiled as Michaela continued to look at him expectantly.

"So what is it?"

"Snails."

Go figure. If it looked like a snail and it smelled like a snail then it must be a snail. The problem was it didn't taste like a snail. It actually tasted rather nice and that posed a dilemma. Did the taste outweigh the fact that she had just eaten a snail? Cocking her head to once side, she gazed at the plate trying to make a decision. Then, sitting up straight she gingerly reached out for the fork still resting on the plate.

"Can I have another one?" Joseph's smile widened.

"Let me show you how to use the utensils."

After dinner, Michaela found herself sitting at the theater eagerly waiting the start of the play she had found out about only an hour before. Joseph had told her a little while they were in transit, but for the rest, Michaela was excited to see. Sitting on the edge of her seat, she pressed her hand to the edge of their box and leaned over, watching all of the visitors to the theater that day. There were some ladies in beautiful silk ball gowns and furs. Diamonds seemed to actually drip from their ears and necks. The sight of them made Michaela reach for her own charm, the one that Rebecca had given her. Could it be that she looked like one of those ladies, so pristine and elegant? Running her hand along the front of her skirt Michaela looked at her attire. The cut, although reminiscent of the ones the ladies around her were wearing, was not quite as severe and therefore still made her look her age. In her own opinion she couldn't even be compared to those ladies; she wasn't half as pretty, but maybe there was hope that one day she might.

"Who do you see?" Joseph asked, leaning forward to follow her gaze.

"Um… there's Mrs. Julia Howe and Mr. Alcott."

"Ah yes, and there is the former President Adams."

"Wow, exciting."

Before Michaela knew it, the lights had dimmed and the curtain was pulled. She was captivated for the next two hours and by the time she the play was complete she was in a dream state. Michaela didn't remember anything else for the night. She didn't remember that she had fallen asleep in the carriage and that her father had carried her to bed and had Martha help settle her for the night. Now it was morning and the events of the night before seemed to be like a perfect dream.

Once Michaela had pieced everything back together, she sat up excitedly in bed. Oh, it was just so wonderful! The play was so funny and she could help but wonder if there was a copy of it in the library downstairs. She had to remember to look after breakfast. Throwing the covers off and sliding the length of the bed, she stopped when she say her bedside table. A small wrapped box sat on top of her book, waiting patiently for her to wake up. It undoubtedly had been left by her father before he went to the hospital that morning. Michaela held her breath and reached for the present. She bit her lip as her fingers danced up and down the toil ribbon, feeling the roughness underneath her skin before tugging on the bow and watching it fall apart under her touch. It didn't take her long to have the box unwrapped and then off came the lid.

"Oh." She breathed looking into the container before lifting statuette out. It was a beautiful figuring of Giselle, the lead character of the ballet her father was supposed to have taken her to last November. She was dancing around the grieving figure of a man, her suitor, who was kneeling at her grave. Holding the object up, she examined all the little details, the facial expressions, the clothes, even the delicate "motion" represented in the billow of Giselle's dress. One day, she would get to see _Giselle_ in person, but for now, she was content to imagine the story from the bodies she was holding in her hand. Carefully, she sat the statue on the table arranging her books and lamp in order to make room for the new object. After moments of heavy consideration, she finally smiled and slid the rest of the way off the bed. Her stomach was growling and it was time for breakfast.

* * *

"Do you think they had a good time last night?" Marjorie whispered from under the covers of her bed. She could hear Sarah roll over and sigh.

"I think so. Christopher certainly seemed to smile a lot."

As the two girls fell silent, Marjorie's mind was drawn to the question she had been contemplating a few weeks now. She couldn't deny the special way Benjamin made her feel. There was an unbelievable spark that shot through her every time he looked at her or touched her. She was eager to learn more.

"Sarah?" She wasn't sure yet if she dared to speak what was on her mind, and so she silently wished Sarah had fallen asleep. She wasn't.

"Yes?"

"Do you think we could start courting? I mean not just having the boys call every now and then but an actual courtship."

Sarah shook her head vigorously as if Marjorie could see her through the darkened room. "Not until we've had out coming out."

Marjorie frowned and turned to her side not wanting to hear what Sarah had to say. It wasn't fair that such a simple ceremony postponed all suitors that she could have. Marjorie didn't see how it made any difference whether she came out or not. In fact, she was fairly certain she didn't want to go through the tradition at all. It was useless and empty. However, that didn't mean that she wanted to stop seeing Benjamin either. Pulling the covers tightly around her shoulders, Marjorie shivered. She wasn't sure what she wanted anymore.

**Thanks for reading guys! I hope you enjoyed it!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

"Oh, it simply isn't fair." Alanna Forsythe heaved a dramatic sigh, leaning further toward the window. From where she was sitting, she found that if she pressed her forehead against the cool glass panes of the window she could see almost directly beneath her to the flowerbeds that lined the walls of the school. Bright little buds were beginning to open into bright yellow petals under the warming spring sun.

"What isn't fair, dearie?" Lillian asked, coming to sit on the opposite end of the window seat. Alanna sighed again as if to answer the question.

"Everything is so green and colorful. I'm tired of school." Shifting suddenly, she dumped the books out of her lap.

"I think we all are."

"We are what?" Kathleen entered with a bouncing step and swishing skirts. Her skin seemed to be glowing this particular morning and she smiled lightheartedly as she smoothed at the gentle curls of her hair. She wasted no time in dropping her books on the floor as she reached a chair sitting near the other two girls.

"We're all ready for school to end."

"Oh, yes most certainly. I don't know how much longer they think they can keep us cooped up in those class rooms." Kathleen huffed at the great injustice.

"And then Ms. Kellison wonders why our arithmetic grades are falling." Alanna rolled her eyes. "She has unreasonable expectations of us. It's spring for heaven's sakes it is time to be outside."

"I bet the birds are chirping out there." Lillian whispered loosing herself while watching a red-breasted robin perched in an apple tree in the back of the school.

While the girls talked, and groan, and sigh, Marjorie happened to wander in unnoticed through the door behind them. However, she had only taken two steps into the room before seeing the three girls sitting by the window and paused, preparing to turn around. Sarah however, continued and, after a second of hesitation, brushed past Marjorie.

"What's wrong?" Sarah asked glancing between the three girls. They all looked so drab, so depressed; one would think that a close relative had died. Sarah therefore was unable to deny her urge to help despite the look of exasperation she was receiving from Marjorie behind her.

"It's spring outside." Lillian answered not bothering to turn her head from the window. She also did not bother to elaborate anymore and left Sarah wondering what was wrong with spring. Alanna however, completed the thought.

"And we're trapped in here."

Sarah stood in expectant silence for just a moment before finally realizing that was all that anyone was going to say. When she did finally come to that realization, she couldn't help but laugh. "Is that all? Well, that's nothing big at all. After all we're going to have spring break in nearly a week."

"Oh, that's right!" Kathleen cooed from her seat. "How sweet of you to remind us, Sarah." Turning to face Sarah, Kathleen reached out to run her hand fondly down her arm. Marjorie felt her stomach turn and then the heat rise to her ears as she thought Kathleen shot her a mischievous grin from around Sarah's skirts. Refusing to be left standing just inside the door Marjorie moved to join her friend.

"Spring Break! I can't believe I've forgotten spring break!" Alanna cried. "Father promised to take me to Philadelphia! He said that he was going to take me to the best restaurants and shops. It's going to be the perfect week."

"Oh Alanna that sound wonderful." Lillian laughed. "I've planned on just spending my week with my older sister in Trenton. She's going to be helping decide things for my coming out this summer. My brother will be out of class as well. I haven't gotten to see him since last summer." Kathleen rolled her eyes.

"Well I'm going to spend the week with my Great Aunt Marshall. She owns a cottage down by the seashore in Maine. It's perfectly splendid there with the water and the seagulls. The Ocean will be warm enough to swim in." The envy could be felt throughout the room as all the heads tilted toward Kathleen dreaming of what it would be like to go swimming in the ocean.

"Wow," Sarah breathed her cheeks tinged with pink. "Your weeks sound amazing. I'm just planning on going home to spend some time with my family."

"That's sounds lovely, though." Alanna smiled. "It's always nice just to go home and rest. Enjoy not having to go to any classes."

"What about you, Marjorie? Do you have any exciting plans?" Marjorie merely frowned at Kathleen. No, she didn't have any exciting plans. In fact, she didn't have any plans at all. She didn't know why she hadn't thought of this before. Of course, she didn't want to go to Boston, but with the way things were looking now, she didn't have much of any other choice. There wasn't much time to plan things. Shrugging Marjorie bobbed her head to one side.

"I haven't really thought it out. I'll be home I suppose."

"Oh Marjorie…" Sarah started and then stopped, afraid to say something she shouldn't. However, all eyes turned to her forcing her to go on. Therefore, she continued, but tried to be as vague as possible. "You know Mother has talked about how lovely it was when you came home with me last fall. She would love it if you would join us over spring."

For a brief moment, Marjorie considered the proposal. She did love Sarah's family. It felt like a place she could truly belong and she had wanted to go back so badly, but now that she was faced with another offer, she was ashamed. How could she continue to take Sarah's kindness for fix her own problems? Marjorie knew the only reason the Clarkson's invited her over was out of pity and right now the thought of someone offering their home for her vacation simply because she had no other place to go made her stomach clench. She couldn't always rely on people like the Clarkson's, and she was embarrassed that she couldn't visit her own family with the same excitement that Sarah held. No, Marjorie would not be visiting New York this spring. Smiling to her friend, she tried not to let her thoughts show.

"Thank you, Sarah, but I do think that I'll be ok for this holiday." Glancing at the wall clock, Marjorie's eyes widened, thankful for an excuse in which to leave. "Oh, well. I'm off to piano lessons. I'll see most of you soon." Hugging her books tightly across her chest, Marjorie left everyone to discuss their upcoming breaks. Meanwhile she had to figure something out. Where was she going to go?

The answer came to her halfway through her lesson. Although it was almost ten that night before she had time to sit down and make her plan into reality. She had worked all the kinks out in her head and already had a running draft of her letter when she finally was able to put pin to paper.

Hunched over her desk lamp, so as not to wake Sarah up, Marjorie struggled to see the paper well enough to read what she was writing.

_Dear Maureen, _

_As you may know Ms. Peabody's school will be letting out for Spring Break in about a week and a half. I had thought about how much I missed getting to spend time with you my little niece and nephew at Christmas and was wondering if I could come to visit for the week. I would love to be in Virginia again and to enjoy the company of my sister. Please write soon so I can make my plans. Your loving sister, Marjorie._

Pressing her lips together, Marjorie blew lightly over the paper, watching as the shiny black ink matted and dried. She rescanned her words. Everything appeared to look all right. There wasn't anything in the note that alluded to her true desire for visiting Maureen, her desire not to be in Boston. Certain that her sister wouldn't deny her a visit, Marjorie folded the paper and slipped it into its envelope. She secured the parcel before addressing the front and leaving it on her desk to dry.

* * *

"Michaela Ann Quinn if you do not come down here this instant it'll be no supper for you!" Martha's voice echoed through the Quinn house bouncing off walls and dancing down corridors and resting upon no ears at all. Michaela still continued to saunter down the hallway as she had been before.

It's not that she was trying to be aggravating. There was just no mustering any fear of threat in the child on this particular evening. Why should there be… there was only half a week until spring break.

Michaela was humming a song to herself as she reached the top of the stair. Doing a little jig with her feet, she bobbed up and down in rhythm to her voice, and by the time she was ready to descend the stairs she was hopping up and down. Hopping down three steps and then back one, she sang louder and louder until finally she reached the bottom. Well, almost. In all actuality, she stood on the third step and jumped (ungracefully might I add) to the floor, landing with a hollow thud that echoed through the entire room. When she straightened again, she found Martha standing directly over her, arms crossed against her massive bosom and face scrunched up in her frustration. Her face was blood red, almost as if she had been holding her breath, and made her hair look even more like fire.

Michaela just stood there, staring at the familiar older woman. Martha in turn said nothing as well and so they continued to look at one another until the familiar tenor echo from the dining room.

"Let her come, Martha." Michaela smiled brightly. Father knew Martha far too well. The older woman rolled her eyes and stepped aside in order to let the little girl pass. Mike didn't get off free, however for as she passed Martha swatted at her with the linen towel she had been holding.

"Hello Father, your home early today." Michaela struggled to pull out the dining chair and climbed into it while Joseph merely watched her from over the top of his glasses.

"That I am. I had a rather easy day at work today. It seems everyone's biggest complaint is having a cold." Folding the newspaper he held in his hands with a flick of his wrist and sitting it on the edge of the table, he unfolded a linen napkin into his lap. Joseph was still eyeing Michaela, despite all his well-orchestrated movements. He noted the way she sat shuffling the silver around one another and taking consecutive sips of water. She unfolded the napkin and placed it into her lap only to fold it again in a different configuration. All this before Martha managed to bring out the first course.

When Martha did, however bring out the salads she stared at the fidgeting girl with lips pursed so tightly, Joseph thought certain she could have produced a pearl. He found it rather comical. Martha, being older and set in her ways and never having a child of her own rarely looked kindly on any display of childishness. It had been a result from ultimately stepping in as mistress of the household when it came to domestic duties after Mrs. Quinn's death and she simply had no time for children or their tendencies. Luckily, Michaela didn't seemed to pay the maid no never mind and kept on with the way things always had.

Glancing between the two women, Martha fuming and Michaela being completely oblivious, Joseph had to smile. There couldn't have been any better way for him to describe home. Unfortunately, Martha caught his amused expression and shot him an even darker stare. _He should know better. I do say, he doesn't nothing but encourage that girl._ Setting the salad plates down in front of the father and daughter, she headed back into the kitchen.

Once they had been left alone, Joseph determined to discover exactly what it was that added to Michaela's particular excitement for this night, or else she would surely drive Martha mad. He reached for his glass and took a sip of wine before starting.

"What in the word has gotten into you today, Mike?" The child instantly blushed.

"Ummm."

"Well, you're not in trouble. As much as Martha would like for you to be. You just can't seem to sit still this evening." Instantly Michaela stilled her legs that had been swinging wildly under the table. She laughed, unaware that it had been so obvious.

"I'm just excited about next week. I have an entire week off school. Whatever will I do with myself?"

"What are you looking forward to the most?"

"Really?"

"Really." Michaela quieted for a moment before raising her eyes to him in a slight wince that made her next words almost comical.

"Not having school… at all." Joseph laughed.

"Well that must some everything up rather nicely." Michaela looked back down at her place.

"It's not that I don't enjoy school."

"Oh I know darling. Everyone needs a little break every once in a while. Trust me. I understand that. However, I was thinking that even though you would enjoy your break, perhaps you would enjoy coming with me on some of my calls?" Joseph paused himself to take a bite of salad before turning to Michaela who had all but dropped her fork.

"Me? Go on calls with you?"

"Well, since Marjorie had decided to spend the week with Maureen there won't be anyone here, and I hate for you to have to spend all of your time at the Hathwells with Miriam or all alone here." He glanced at her only to find the she still hadn't moved. "Darling…"

"I would love to go with you next week." Michaela had often times spent time at the hospital with her father, even sitting in on a surgery or two, but she hadn't be allowed to go with him to actually visit his patients. How amazing was this?

"I'm glad. There aren't many people. Mrs. Clint is on bed rest and needs to be checked in on. There are a few post surgery patients that will need a little care. The only big thing I have booked is to spend Thursday and the Sacred Heart Orphanage."

"It doesn't matter. I would still love to go." Joseph couldn't help but smile, glad that her enthusiasm still lived for his work. The desire burned inside of her and no matter what Rebecca or Claudette or anyone else thought, Joseph couldn't believe that it would simply die.

"Well good, I'm glad."

"Will you have any surgeries next week?"

"Ha ha… I'm not sure, but I'll see what I can work up." He winked at her before turning back to his dinner.

Unfortunately for Michaela she couldn't go back to her food as easily. In fact, she had lost all appetite. Next week, she was going to go on calls with her father. Like a real doctor. Maybe he would even let her carry his bag.

* * *

A screech filled the manse in Gettysburg Pennsylvania.

"What on earth is he thinking?" Walter could hear it all the way in his study. In fact, the piercing noise was so out of place in his moment of solitude that he nearly tumbled over backward for sheer fright and scattered many of his seminary books across the floor. Clamoring to his feet, he brushed at the wrinkles in his suit before moving for the door. It didn't take him long to find Claudette pacing back and forth in the parlor.

"Is everything alright, dear?"

"Is everything alright? Is everything all right! Of course, everything isn't all right. My father is the most incredulous man that has ever treaded God's green Earth."

"Claudette, watch your tongue." The stern rebuke, so rarely heard in the Jameson household, instantly caused Claudette to stop pacing. She blushed a little and reached for the fan sitting next to the settee. With a swift _fwop_ the fan was unfurled and fluttered quickly at her chest. Walter moved across the room to his wife and placed both hands securely on her shoulders. "Now," he whispered in a calming voice. "Tell me what the matter is."

"He's taking her to see his patients."

"Who?"

"Michaela. I got a letter from Rebecca; she said he's taking Michaela on his house calls next week."

"And…"

"It's completely improper. She is a young impressionable lady. There is no telling where he will take her." Walter had to smile.

"Claudie, he's your father, not a child. He's not going to put her into any danger. He loves her just as much as you do."

"I know but it's all he does taking her here and there. Feeding this fantasy of hers."

"Perhaps if that's what Michaela really wants, to become a doctor, that's what's meant to be." Claudette couldn't seem to evade her husband's piercing stare. As much as he did make sense, she knew it was all wrong. A woman couldn't be a doctor; no one would ever accept her and Michaela would only end up hurt in the process. No, it was better to protect her from those broken dreams now.

"It will ruin the family name. All the society ladies will talk."

"I don't believe they give much credence to what the Doctor does. I'm sure they write of everything as due to him being a man. At least that has been my experience of those society ladies." Claudette felt her chest knot. It was hard to breath. "Besides, from what I remember the Jameson name was still rather reputable." He leaned in to place a gentle kiss to her temple. His hand ran smoothly across her arms and Claudette could feel the tension leave her body, the anger melt and dissipate.

"This isn't how Mother would have wanted it." She whispered, for the first time putting into words what bothered her so much. "If he allows Michaela to pursue this then she'll be ruined. Doctor or no doctor no one of proper station will marry her. Then what happens? What happens after his is gone and she is all alone? How does she support herself? There'll be no one to take care of her, or if there is it'll be some fish monger and she'll spend the rest of her days begging for food." Her words were at a whisper and finally Walter began to understand the future Claudette saw for her sister. It was a grim prospect, but not necessarily reality.

Chuckling to himself, he couldn't help but point out, "Somehow I imagine Michaela will be able to take care of herself." Instantly he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Claudette's brow lowered from worry to anger and her eyes darkened. She stiffened in his arms and finally made a move to extricate herself all together.

"If you believe that Mr. Jameson, then you have a very poor understanding for the way the world works."

Walter felt his own temper flare, which it rarely did with encounters with his wife. However most encounters he managed to console her, to calm her and giver her something to think about. Never had he misjudged the situation so badly. He turned and watched as she made her way to the stairs.

"Mrs. Jameson," he returned the icy formality of her own words. "I'll remind you that I have seen a lot of this world. I have been on my own in if for most of my life. I have counseled others through it for the other half and I'll have you know that I have not encountered anything, _anything_ that could not be overcome."

Claudette stopped as she reached the banister and turned toward her husband. Anger no longer flashed in her eyes, but had been replaced with regret and disappointment, perhaps even sadness. She made certain to speak very calmly, not raising her voice. She wanted him to understand.

"That may be true for you and the men you work with, but it is _not_ true for a woman." Turning to ascend the stairs, Claudette left nothing but the fading rust of her skirts as proof of her one time presence.

_Yay for winter break! Look for updates a little more common than just every Friday! Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Spring Break is coming soon…_


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

There was nothing but green as far as the eye could see. The world had become a sea of trees and leaves with the occasional colorful patch of flowers that dotted the side of the roadbed. The crisp spring air blew ever so slightly, swaying tree branches as the cool aroma of honeysuckle wafted through the leaves. The hustle and bustle of the Lexington was far behind them now as they continued further out of town passing the occasional little house along the way.

As the buggy continued to bounce along the wheel rutted road, Marjorie sat quietly, looking from side to side, trying to identify the little details to her trip. Somehow, she didn't remember her sister living so far away from town, and it seemed the further they went the more Marjorie began to worry. What was she going to do all week? Did Maureen even have neighbors? Shifting, uncomfortably in her seat, she dropped her eyes to the bag she was holding in her lap. Her finger reached out tediously to trace the intricate design woven onto the front.

"Relax. We'll be there soon." Marjorie looked up to stare at her brother in law blankly. "The house. We'll be to the house soon."

"Oh." Marjorie shut her mouth and turned her attention back to the bag in her lap. Jonathan wasn't quite sure what to say. The ride from town had been more than… uncomfortable to say the least. In all honesty, Jonathan just didn't know his sister in law very well. Marjorie had always been quiet; she kept to herself and rarely ever said a word about anything. When she did talk, it was usually only to answer questions about school and to stand patiently and smile while her sisters went on and on about what an elegant young lady she was becoming. He had heard many good things from Maureen about how she was excelling at her finishing school and would be one of the best catches of the year when she did come out. Jonathan, however, didn't see this. He didn't see a lighthearted fifteen-year-old maiden, he saw an impersonal little girl who showed little interest in her family. Perhaps rightfully so seeming that the majority of her life was lived away from Boston with different friends. He had seen it many times with his students at the Virginia Military Institute. They came to school away from their old friends and family and found that in order to survive a new life must be created within the new environment and new friends must be made. Most young people thrived in the new environment, but soon found that coming home was a strain. Although he had never talked to Marjorie about such things, Jonathan wouldn't have been very surprised if this was the case with her. Therefore, one could understand why he was so surprised when Maureen received a letter from her sister asking to spend her spring holiday in Virginia. Marjorie had never shown any interested in Virginia before, why now. Jonathan however, didn't have the heart to bring all this up to Maureen; she was far too excited about the visit.

Since he was completely lost within his own thoughts, all of Jonathan's movements were impulsive. Even as he tightened on the reigns of the buggy, pulled to a slow trot in front of the well-known house, and turned toward the familiar carriage house he didn't have to think about his actions. Marjorie however, looked up to find a beautiful two story dark brown home surrounded by the tall presence of trees. Vegetation, bushes, flowers, vines seemed to litter the front yard, which was framed on three sides by a wooden fence. Ivy ran along the edges of the fence and wrapped around the posts. As the buggy pulled up alongside the home, Marjorie could see even more, including the spiral of smoke that rose from the chimney and the tabby cat that was curled into a solid slumber on the front porch. It was a quiet little scene, and in Marjorie's eyes incredibly boring.

The quietness, however only lasted for a short while before the loud slamming of the front door startled the cat, causing it to rise nearly two feet in the air before skittering away.

"Fadder… Fadder!" A little squeal sang as James tore across the front yard and refused to even slow down until he found himself surrounded in his father's arms and flying through the air. Screams of joy could be heard for miles or at least that what Marjorie thought, wincing against the high pitched sound.

"Hello by boy." Jonathan nestled his son down on his arm before turning to Marjorie. "You remember Aunt Marjorie? She's visiting for a while."

"James Scott…!" The disembodied voice echoed through the yard and reached Marjorie and Jonathan long before the speaker came into view. Soon, however, Marjorie did find herself staring at her sister and she couldn't help but feel her cheeks tighten in excitement. "Oh Marjorie! I'm so glad you made it." Indeed, there was no greater pleasure for her than to have her sister visit over her break. It seemed as though it only took two steps for her to reach the younger girl and, shifting Jane who was sitting on her hip, pulled Marjorie into a tight embrace. Marjorie, on the other hand thought she was suffocating. "I hope the carriage ride wasn't bumpy."

"No not at all." Marjorie somehow managed a slight smile whilst Jane's little hand danced back and forth across her line of vision. Finally giving up on gaining her aunt's attention, Jane screeched her desire to be noticed and smiled when all eyes turned to her, but she received nothing more than a dismayed look from Marjorie. Happy to have just that, she jutted the hand that previously had been lodged in her mouth out to tap Marjorie on the cheek, but the older girl moved just in time. _Ew, she spits. _It was one of the most disgusting things Marjorie had ever seen. Is this what she had to look forward to? Swallowing hard, she nodded quickly simply because she didn't know what else to do. "It's was a nice trip."

"Oh well that's lovely." Maureen cooed. "Well, let's get inside. Dinner is almost ready and I know you would like to rest some."

"Can I show her, her room, Mamma?" The happy little voice piped up from Jonathan's arms as James wiggled down from his grasp. Before anyone had even replied, the little boy had skipped over to Marjorie and taking her hand in his, was leading… rather pulling her down the walkway. Glancing behind her, she saw nothing but her sister and brother in law's smiling face. Oh dear, what had she done?

* * *

Michaela leaned back in her father's chair, curling her legs up in front of her. Staring up at the ceiling, she moved her fingers, one after another, as she counted an unseen number. When she was finally satisfied with whatever it was she was doing, she sat forward once more and dipped her pin into the ink well. She scribbled down one more thing, looking over to reference something in an over sized book as she did so. Finally, after a long second, she straightened. Tilting her head to one side, she studied her masterpiece before grinning proudly. _That's perfect._ She scooted off the chair and, using both hands, struggled to shut the massive book.

"There you are." Joseph stuck his head into the room and smiled at the sight of his daughter. "I've been looking all over for you. Are you ready to leave?" Leave. It was Monday, the first day of spring break and Joseph was almost running late for his calls.

"All set." Michaela said determinedly, picking up the voluminous book in her arms and carried it back to the shelf. Joseph just watched her perplexed by her actions. He shoved both hands into his pocket and walked over to his desk, scanning it for any sign as to what his eleven year old was doing. The only thing out of place was the paper now lying alone on the desk.

"What's this?" Extracting his hand from his pocket, he picked up the sheet and studied it carefully.

"That's a list."

"Of…"

"Of who we're going to see today." Joseph lowered the paper so he could glance over the top at Michaela.

"Mike..." Joseph wasn't even sure he understood before Michaela had come back to him and taken the letter out of his hand. She held it up so he could see and pointed to each line.

"Mrs. Clint is on bed rest during the last weeks of her pregnancy. Therefore, we're stopping and you will check her heart rate and blood pressure and make sure everything is fine with the baby. After that, we are going to see Mr. O'Sullivan who broke his leg last week. The bone broke through the skin so in addition to making sure that the bone is healing properly you want to check for infection. Clarissa Stetson has been having problems with her asthma and you'll want to make sure her lungs are clear and she has some breathing treatments on hand. Then it'll probably be lunchtime and that's why there is a big break. After that, we will visit Mrs. Hanchey as her son asked and make sure that her cough isn't turning into pneumonia. Finally, to top it off Charlie Benson has been feeling ill and we want to make sure that its nothing serious." Michaela turned to turn her father, a proud smile stretching across her lips as her chest puffed out a little. She folded the paper and tucked it into the pocket of her dress.

"Wow, I don't believe I have ever been so prepared for my day before. Will you do this for every call we make this week?"

Michaela rolled her eyes. "This is so I know what we're doing. I don't want to miss anything."

Joseph laughed. "Well I suppose the only way you could miss anything now is if you don't grab your coat. We need to be leaving."

"Ok!" Dodging the edge of her father's desk, she ran out of the room, leaving Joseph, smiling at her excitement, to follow after her.

* * *

"EEEEEEE!" James Scott screeched at the top of his lungs and he ran into the room flailing a long piece of cloth behind him. "Lookee, lookee!" Racing through the perimeter of the room, he held the cloth over his head so that it bellowed out behind him, chasing after him as though he wore it as a cape.

Marjorie did her best to keep her eyes on her book, trying to tune everything out around her except the words she was repeating from her book. However, despite her best efforts she couldn't ignore the two year old, especially after he turned his attention to her, fanning the cloth in her direction and piling it on top of her.

As the world darkened around her, softened by the piles of fabric, all Marjorie could hear were the shrilled giggles of her nephew. "Oh for Heaven's sake." She cried in frustration as she batted at fabric surrounding her, searching for any way out. Finally, the edge slid down her face and landing promptly in her lap, dragging loose strands of hair from their pins. Struggling to smooth herself back to perfection, she glanced irritated to her nephew who was standing expectantly, a slender little hand pressed tightly across his mouth as the sheer joy of childhood glistened in his eyes. The sight was enough to irritate Marjorie. What did she have to do to be left alone? Without giving it much thought, she waded the cloth into her hands and threw it at him hitting him square in the face.

For a split second, Marjorie froze unsure of what was going to happen now. Was he going to cry again? No, despite her initial fears, the young lad squealed once more and, throwing both hands out began to spin recklessly around the room. That is, until he fell over into the parlor table, knocking its contents to the ground with an earth shattering crash. As if on cue tears welled in little James' eyes and his cry rose to match those of his sister who had been woken from her nap because of the fiasco.

"Good knight!" Marjorie jumped to her feet pressing palms to both her ears. "Oh do stop crying." She bent over to pick the boy up from the floor. "You're fine. Completely alright." Running her hands up and down him, she searched for any scratch or bumps. There weren't any, and yet the child still cried. What did that mean? Getting irritated, Marjorie huffed. "I said your fine. It's ok. Stop crying." Unfortunately her "consoling" didn't help matters much and so she was resign to staring at the poor child in utter confusion and horror. Finally, she initiated the last resort. "James Scott, go find your mother!" Needing no further encouraging he turned and ran out of the room.

With one crying child gone, Marjorie was left to deal with the baby. "What is wrong?" She half whined walking over to the basinet and picking up the baby. "It's alright." Lifting the child from her place she held little Jane out at arm's length instead of cuddling the baby to her chest. The usual pale and smiling face was scrunched together and bright reach as large crocodile tears rolled down her cheeks through shuteyes. Her arms flailed restlessly and Marjorie was completely perplexed as what to do now.

"Whatever is the matter?" Maureen wondered in her usual singsong voice as she entered the room and instantly bent to straighten the table and fixtures. Meanwhile, Marjorie continued to stare the baby in the eyes as if she could magically will the thing to stop wailing in her arms. When nothing happened, she turned promptly and walked over to Maureen holding the baby out to her mother. Somewhat shocked, Maureen reached out and grasped her child instantly pulling Jane to her chest and the child quieted under her mother's care, but Marjorie didn't notice this, she had her attention turned to the frustration of her ruined morning.

"I did not come here, Maureen, to babysit your children." Saying nothing else, she turned and walked out of the room.

* * *

An hour after lunch, Marjorie found herself walking contently down the dirt path that connected the Scott household to the greater Lexington area. She was in absolutely no hurry, having been thankful for the opportunity to be out of that house. After the afternoon meal (which was incredibly loud in Marjorie's opinion) Maureen had turned to her and gently suggested that she take Mr. Scott his lunch for the afternoon. After all, "I'm sure the fresh air would do you good and you might enjoy looking around for a bit," Maureen said smiling quietly. Her smile however, was imperceptible to Marjorie who could think of nothing else bet getting out. The Bonnet came on, the shawl was donned, and boots rounded out the ensemble as Marjorie reached for the basket and headed out the door.

As Lexington rose before her, the school was not hard to distinguish from everything else with its tall, straight buildings rising above the skyline. The tall, intimidating red brick walls created two buildings, a barracks, and a schoolhouse in front of which a scraggly, muddy lawn laid flush, surrounded on all sides by a dirt-walking path. At the center of the grounds a flagpole sat erect, on which flew the American flag tall and proud. Young men dressed in grey dotted in and out of the barracks and across the grounds.

Marjorie simply stood staring at the two buildings, glancing from one to another. All of those young, elegant men interested her. Part of her wished she could go over and speak to them, but the shear thought made her cheeks flush. If only… _Oh heavens what would Ms. Peabody say?_ Turning on her heels her headed determinately for the academic building not stopping until she was inside.

The ring of bells announced the end of class as Marjorie entered the building. As if she were witnessing a flood, the doors opened and students, all in grey, poured from the interior rooms. Instantly stopping in her tracks, she watched as all the boys headed for her. Somewhat aghast she wasn't sure what to do. Boys brushed by her on left and right, some making eye content and smiling suggestively. She was fairly certain she heard a whistle somewhere. Utterly appalled she tried not to let her mouth hang open, instead tightened her jaw tightly, and kept her eyes trained tightly on the end of the hallway before her.

"What are you doing here princess?"

"Come to see me?"

"Aw, don't go so soon." The boys pouted and whined all with secretive smiles as she shoved her way through the crowed.

"You have some goodie's in there?" A young man whispered grabbing Marjorie by the upper arm and turning her toward him. At first, Marjorie was scared, even angered, but once she turned to face the young man with his wisps of blonde hair and shimmering green eyes she saw the laughter and danced across his lips and couldn't deny herself the pleasure of playing him at his own game.

In one swift movement, Marjorie quickly and obviously looked the boy up and down and matched his smile. "Well I can't say that you don't need any. You're a bit on the scrawny side." He laughed.

"Well you must blame that on my Momma. She doesn't send me too many care packages."

"Oh well, maybe I could help a little with that." Reaching into the basket and pulling out a cookie before handing it to him. He nodded as he took it, making sure his fingers grazed hers in the process.

"May I ask your name?"

"It's…."

"Marjorie!" The girl heard a surprised voice echo over the commotion of the crowded hallway and before she could turn around, she knew the speaker was standing behind her.

"Jonathan… I was just…" She wasn't sure what to say. Turning back to the young man standing before her, she saw him take a step back as he regarded his teacher. What she did not see however was the warning that flashed from Jonathan's eyes to the boy before softening.

"Marc, I suppose you've met my sister in law. She's visiting us on her spring break this week."

"Oh, yes sir." Then glancing apologetically to Marjorie. "I suppose I must get to my next class. Thanks for the cookie." Tipping the morsel against the edge of his brow the young boy, Marc, walked off.

Left alone with her brother in law, Marjorie turned toward him and encountered a warning glance. Jonathan, trying to refrain from disciplining where it was not his place, shook the look from his face and glanced toward the wall before taking her arm and turning her back toward her destination, his office. He wasn't likely to let her stray too far now.

"Maureen sent me to bring you lunch."

"Well I must thank you, but I suppose this means I don't have my dessert cookie."

* * *

_Here it is. I hope you enjoyed chapter 20!_


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

The Sacred Heart Orphanage sat on the corner of Winthrop and Smith. It was a tall building, nearly four stories tall, built of drab grey stone. There was no colorful front lawn, no bright rose bushes. No trees grew around the massive building. The windows were void of colorful drapes and even the entrance with its long, plunging front stoop decorated on each side with two growling lions seemed frightening.

Getting out of the carriage, Michaela found herself staring at the tall building while holding her father's hand a little too tightly. For the first time is such a long time, Michaela found herself feeling much like a little child, small and frightened of what it was she was about to find. There was just something about the word "orphanage" that was mysterious. Every time she thought about The Sacred Heart since the moment Joseph had mentioned that they would call, Michaela had envisioned rows of beds and cribs where children dressed in rags screamed and cried. She could imagine a mean matron who ruled the building with an iron fist. All this was a result of the fact that her imagination had been fueled by stories of orphans who ran away in order to find a family. She'd read _Oliver Twist_ and found the thought of anyone having to fend for himself awful. She couldn't imagine what she would do without her father. The sheer idea made her want to cry.

"Are you ready?" Joseph asked, squeezing his daughter's hand back. He was completely unaware of the internal doubts she was struggling with as he turned to smile at her before leading the way up the steps.

The metallic clang from the knocker seemed to resonated through the entire building and Michaela felt it was an eternity before the door finally swung on its hinges.

"Oh Doctor Quinn." A small mouse of a woman answered the door and smiled. She was dressed in a nice calico work dress, very plain and practical, and yet still fashionable enough to receive visitors for the day. Her curly blond-grey hair was twisted and stuck up in pins and frizzed around her head like a halo. Around her neck hung a tarnished pocket watch, which she caught nervously in her hand and glanced at quickly before ushering Joseph and Michaela inside.

"May I introduce to you my youngest daughter Michaela. Michaela, this is Ms. Level. She runs the Sacred Heart." Michaela, as taught, bent her knees slightly as she dipped her head, a small little curtsey that was returned by Ms. Level.

"How do you do?"

"Very nicely thank you." Michaela smiled at the little exchange. See, she could act like a little woman if she wanted, but wouldn't life be boring if this is how she always had to act?

"There are several children in the infirmary, but I haven't encountered anything too serious." Ms. Level turned her attention to the doctor and continued walk through the building leaving Michaela behind to catch up, but that was all right with her. Even as she accompanied her father on his calls, Michaela had learned very early not get in the middle of things, but instead to step back and simply watch, making a mental note of all of her questions to ask after they had left.

As Michaela followed behind the doctor and matron, she began to lag more and more as she took the time to look around her. The interior of the building was nothing like the cold exterior. There was a large oak banister just off the foyer and the walls were painted with soothing colors of butternut and pale blue. Some of the rooms had door standing open where Michaela could see fires burning in a hearth and comfortable table and chairs. Toys lined the walls. She passed the little classroom on her left, which looked like a miniature replica of the one she attended, and the nursery rooms held four or five cribs each with rocking chair and some small toys for the younger children.

As Joseph and Ms. Level disappeared down the hallway, Michaela's attention was distracted from her path to a little boy who came barreling out of the room, silent tears flowing down his cheeks. The boy couldn't have been much older than four or five and yet he looked a little smaller than Michaela's nephew of the same age did. The boy was wearing a pair of black stockings and a black "dress" that hung down to about his knees.

"Oh, what's wrong?" Michaela asked bending over the little boy, who wiped at his eyes with his fist. He just continued to sniffle, stopping only to take a shuddering deep breath. Deciding to change tactics, Michaela knelt down so she could look at him in the eyes. "If you tell me what's wrong I might be able to fix it." She whispered, not sure whether or not to touch the young boy. She had never really had to deal with small children. Every time she was around her nephews, Rebecca wasn't too far away. Michaela felt uncomfortable not knowing exactly what to say to the boy.

Struggling to take a few breathes, the little boy moved the hand that had been blocking his line of vision and looked at her for the first time. "My ball." He said between breaths.

"Where is your ball?"

"In here." Michaela was surprised when the boy took her hands and pulled her into the room next them. Glancing down the hallway where she knew her father had gone, she couldn't see him anymore, but she imagined that he could be able to find her if he was ready to leave before she made it back to the infirmary.

Stepping into the room, Michaela glanced about at her new surroundings. It was dimly lit with oil lamps that sat in the windows. There was a plush sofa that sat again the wall and two chairs sat facing the object. The seats had been scattered with books, pencils, and paper. Sticking his thumb in his mouth the little boy allowed no time for Michaela to look around. Instead, he set his eyes on his ball and made straight for it. Finally, he stopped abruptly and lifted his finger up, pointed up.

Against the wall sat a long table on which blocks and dolls were strewn about, and in the middle of that desk sat a plain cloth ball. Now the only question was how to get it down. As Michaela stood there, thinking, her eyebrow raised and chewing on the inside of her lip the little boy popped his thumb back into his mouth and watched her expectantly. Suddenly, Michaela's face brightened. "Oh, I can fix this." Moving toward a chair sitting alone in the opposite corner of the room, she pulled it over toward the desk and after positioning it, used it as a step in order to crawl onto the top of the table. She laid flat across the tabletop, trying not to have to crawl across the table any more than she had too, and stretched her hands out in order to grasp the ball. When she felt the soft fabric fill her fingers, she smiled and rolled over in order to hop off the desk.

"Here you go." She whispered, handing the ball back to the little boy and warming at the bright smile he gave her.

"Thank you!" He replied excitedly.

"What did you do, Jacob?" The presence of another voice startled Michaela and made her jump. Straightening, she found herself facing another girl not much younger than she was. The older girl was wearing a matching outfit to that of the little boy, black stockings, and a black dress and held a baby.

"He didn't do anything wrong. He just lost his ball. Everything's ok now." Michaela smiled back down at the little boy and patted him on the head. He, in turn, threw the ball up in the air and caught it on its return trip.

"I'm sorry he bothered you."

"It was no bother, really." The other little girl smiled, looking somewhat relieved.

"I'm Gilda, that's my younger brother Jacob, and this," she shook the baby who was laid across her shoulder, "is Tiffany."

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Michaela." Gilda tilted her head to consider the new girl standing in front of her.

"Michaela." She repeated the name as if trying to savor it. "I think that is beautiful." Michaela had to blush.

"Thank you." A ball came hurdling from the right, hitting Michaela in the side and leaving her straining to catch the object. A fluttery laugh accompanied the action, leaving Michaela to smile and toss it back to the little boy who had thrown it in the first place. Gilda, standing on the outside smiled at her brother's happiness and then saw the same way that Michaela laughed.

"You're not going to be staying here are you?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You're not coming to stay at the orphanage."

Michaela shook her head. "My father is a doctor. He's here to look at the sick children. How did you know?"

"You're too happy. Most of the other boys and girls that come here are really sad at first. They never smile."

"Oh." Michaela whispered, not knowing what else to say. She reached out and took the ball that Jacob was offering her before tossing it back to him. She wanted to learn more about Gilda and her siblings, but she wasn't entirely sure if it was ok to ask. Finally, her curiosity won out and she looked back at the girl. "How long have you been living here?"

"For about six months. That's how old Tiffany is. Momma died when Tiffany was born and Papa has been away at sea for almost a year now. He was supposed to be home before Tiffany was born, but he hasn't come back yet." Gilda's voice drifted away before adding as if to reassure Michaela, "I expect him back any day now."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, it will be nice to go home then."

"I imagine it will be."

"Would you like to see my bed?" Gilda's eyes grew large with excitement. She hadn't gotten to talk to someone her own age in so long. There weren't many older children at The Sacred Heart and the few older children there were often worked during the day.

"I would love too."

Gilda took Michaela across the hallway and opened the door to a long room that housed six metal beds. Each bed had its own nightstand sitting to the left of the head, and a trunk that sat at the foot of the bed on which laid a neatly folded woolen blanket and rag doll. Gilda marched through the room straight toward the window at the end.

"I'm the oldest girl in here. All the others are eight and nine so that means I get to have the bed by the window because I'm responsible."

"That's nice." Michaela glanced around her. Each girl had nothing more than six feet of space to keep all of their belongings. The idea was unfathomable to her. When she looked back to her new friend, Gilda could plainly read the thoughts across her face.

"Don't be sad for us. It's really not that bad and I get to help Ms. Level a lot with the little babies. I love the little babies and that means I get to spend a lot of time with my little sister." As if to further prove her point, Gilda took the baby from her shoulder and laid her across the bed letting Michaela have the best view of Tiffany since they met. The baby shared the same fair complexion as her older brother and sister but her face was a little flushed. Michaela didn't think anything about it until she reached out to tickle the cheek. Tiffany coughed several times.

"How long has she been coughing Gilda?"

"Only since this morning."

"She sounds a little congested."

"What?"

"Umm…" Michaela thought about what she was saying, trying to decide on the best way to explain it. "She sounds like she has a lot of fluid in her chest. Would you mind if we took her too my father?"

"Why?"

"Well, you don't want it to develop into an infection or pneumonia or anything like that." Gilda fell silent as she considered the girl standing across from her. What a strange girl. She was using all these big words and talking about infections. Gilda was fairly certain that normal girls didn't know such things.

"Are you studying to be a nurse or something?"

Forgetting her task for a moment, Michaela stood and smiled. "I'm going to be a doctor." She enjoyed the wide look of amazement that spread across Gilda's face, but was startled out of her amusement as the baby gave another little cough. Lowering her eyes back down to the baby Michaela reached to brush at the loose wisps of hair that lay flat across the Tiffany's head. There wasn't any fever, but it was important they keep it that way. Taking the shawl she had been wearing around her shoulders, Michaela wrapped Tiffany in it and cradled the baby to her chest, enjoying the wonderful feeling of having a little one snuggle so close to her. "None of that is important now. Let's take her to Father so he can have a look, ok?"

* * *

_Knock, knock_. The soft rapt at Michaela's bedroom door preceded the loud squeak as it swung open into the room. Just as he did every time he entered her room, Joseph winced. "I promise I'm going to have Harrison fix that," leaving Michaela to smile. It was the little things like that that Michaela loved the most. She gave a soft little chuckle as she looked up at him from where she was stretched out on her stomach across the foot of her bed, her feet dangling over her head.

"Hello Father." Her voice was quiet, signaling to Joseph that he had interrupted a moment of deep thought. Usually, he might have quietly excused himself, not wanting to bother her time alone; he understood how she cherished her ability to be alone in her thoughts. However, he had been a little concerned that she had been so quiet most of the day and had retreated to her room to take a nap after they returned home, which she rarely ever did; therefore, this time Joseph didn't retreat. Instead, he entered the room and sat down next to her on the bed. The bed linens rustled under his weight and settled back into an intense quietness that was broken only by the sound of their breathing.

Michaela twirled an item in her hand, feeling the edges and textures under the pads of her fingers. Joseph had to lean over slightly to be able to see into her hands before he realized that she held the vulcanite necklace of Elizabeth's. Joseph had given the necklace to Michaela on the day of Elizabeth's funeral, an ornament to remind the child of the woman who had given her life.

Joseph placed a comforting hand of Michaela's back and gently ran it along her frame. "You know you did good today. You had your first solo diagnosis. I'm proud of you at catching Tiffany's congestion so early." Joseph knew his daughter smiled that same crooked smile she always gave when he told her such things. He knew she smiled even though he couldn't see it. It was the little things like that he loved about her.

Michaela tilted her head and gazed more longingly at the necklace in her hands. He was proud of her. Those words more than anything else made Michaela feel special, loved, but she couldn't help but think about Gilda and Jacob. What about the children who have no one to be proud of them? Would there be anyone to clap and get excited with Tiffany says her first words or takes her first steps? Gilda didn't have anyone to help her make her bed in the morning or make her birthday special. Jacob had no one to rescue his ball.

She still hadn't said a word aloud and Joseph glanced at the door wondering if he should have given her a few more minutes. She would have told him, though. She would have said that she would be down in a moment or that she'd see him at dinner, but she didn't. As the two of them, neither one moving from their spot, lapsed into a comfortable silence, Joseph's hand continued to glide over the smooth taffeta of her dress. Finally, as his hand began its ascent once more it slipped above her collar and wrapped around the back of her neck, gently squeezing the soft skin of her neck. Michaela in turn lowered her head, enjoying the little massage.

"What are you thinking of, Mike?" The question broke the heavy silence and Michaela sighed, trying to determine what to say. She rose to her knees and slipped the necklace back over her head.

"I was just thinking about the kids at the orphanage today. They're all alone with no one to help them tie their shoes or read good night stories to them. Gilda's the oldest in her room and so she has to help with all the little kids." Michaela blushed deeply somewhat ashamed of the next secret she would share. "I can't imagine having to help with little kids all day. I like going to school and reading my books. Sometimes I just like being able to play with Miriam and not having to worry about anything."

Joseph plucked at a curl that had fallen across her shoulder. "That's what it's supposed to be like when you're eleven. You're not supposed to worry about anything but yourself. That's why children have mothers and fathers."

"But Gilda doesn't have anybody." Michaela shook her head sadly.

"You would be surprised to know the community that children like Gilda and Jacob form. They have close friendship with the other orphans, and I can assure you that Ms. Level and the other ladies who work at The Sacred Heart love and care for each of them separately. A family doesn't have to be parents and their children, sometimes they're not blood relations at all. All that is important is that they love one another."

"Do you think it would be alright if we went back to visit Gilda and the others one day?"

Joseph smiled at his daughter. Somewhere along the line of people who had shaped her life, she had obtained such a compassionate heart. He would never admit to himself that he had any part in giving her such a wonderful gift, but nonetheless he was pleased that she was becoming who she was. "I think we can arrange a little visit."

"Good." Michaela wrapped her arms around Joseph's waist and buried her face against him, smelling his familiar scene of cologne and cigar smoke. She snuggled closer to him as his arms encircled around her. "Father?' She asked, tilting her head up toward him. "You won't leave, will you?"

Joseph chuckled, his chest and shoulders shaking her back and forth. "I'm not going anywhere, my love. I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

In Lexington, the Scott house was sound asleep. All, that is, except for Jonathan. He was sitting alone in the darkened parlor with only a little candle sitting in the window to offer light for him. He still wore the brown work pants that he donned this morning, not having to go class today. His white shirt hung limply around him and he was still in his stocking clad feet. He reclined back on the sofa, his foot propped up on the seat and a teacup in hand. He was certain at this hour he needn't worry about being walked in on and this belief attributed much to his relaxed state.

Jonathan was thinking about his family, about his wife, and about his wife's family. After Marjorie's excursion to VMI on Monday, everything had changed. Marjorie had brought him his lunch every day, stopping by the boys on her way in and out of the building. By Wednesday, she had become acquainted with most of Jonathan's students and then on Thursday when the day was over a four o'clock, he had walked out of the academic building on the way home and had found her sitting on a blanket on the grounds surrounded on all sides by boys talking to her and laughing. He stood there for only a moment, taking into account his sister in law and her body language. As one of the boys spoke, saying something funny apparently as each of the boys smiled, Marjorie threw her head back and laughed all the while reaching out with her hand and touching the boy on the shoulder. Turning her attention to him, she tilted her head to one side, and Jonathan watched as a boyish grin spread across her companion's face. Jonathan could only imagine what she said. Quickly closing the distant between him and the social gathering Jonathan watched as the boys upon seeing him began to dismiss themselves from Marjorie's presence. There were only three left by the time he reached them.

"Marjorie, dear what are you still doing here?" His voice was loud and perhaps overfriendly in order to compensate for his disbelief of her behavior.

"Oh" Marjorie cooed not seeming to notice his anger at all. "I was going home after bringing you lunch, but I just got sidetracked."

"That was over three hours ago." Jonathan replied flatly glancing at the remaining boys. Marjorie giggled.

"I must have lost track of time."

"Yes, you must have. Well, I suppose this means you can accompany me on my journey home." Reaching out for her arm, he pulled her up and nodded to the boys. "I imagine you fellas have a lot of studying you need to be doing." The boys just smiled at one another. Professor Scott always put emphasis on his class, usually in jest, understanding that most of his students cared little about Moral Philosophy. Not noticing the tension in their professor's shoulders, they nodded to him before respectfully excusing themselves.

However, despite how more and more lax Marjorie became while in public, Jonathan struggled to maintain his position as brother in law not father, but this morning had beaten all. Just before lunch, there was a knock at the door and Jonathan was surprised to find two of his students on his porch.

"We were, um. We were wondering if we could accompany Miss Quinn through the park today. We were hoping she would enjoy a picnic." The boy on the left lifted a straw basket up and lowered it again as if in confirmation. Jonathan took a step back from the door and considered the two boys asking permission to take his sister in law out. What was he supposed to do? None of the boys had acted out of disrespect, he felt certain of that, but he also knew how boys thought. He was one, after all, and he knew that it was up to Marjorie to set the boundaries of any relationship. Unfortunately, Marjorie wasn't interested in boundaries, which made it harder to her male companions to respect them.

Turning from the door, Jonathan found Marjorie standing behind him. She was already dressed in a walking dress and carried a light shawl to combat the slight breeze. Jonathan frowned and suddenly he saw his Jane standing before him dressed for a caller; it would be a reality for him one day. Instantly Jonathan knew what he must do. Turning back to the boys, he offered an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry boys, but my sister in law has not yet reached 16. It isn't proper for her to be partaking in courting activities yet. I hope you understand when I say she must stay home today." Although disappointed, the boys didn't argue. Marjorie on the other hand was a different story.

After shutting the door, he turned to find Marjorie staring at him in disbelieve. In all honesty, he hadn't expected anything less.

"How could you do that? Just turn them away?"

"That is what was needed to be done."

"We made plans."

"Yes, plans that are very improper considering yours and their age and what it was you planned to do." His voice rose in slightly in aggravation, enough to bring Maureen into the foyer to see whatever the matter was.

"You are not my father!"

"He allowed you to come to my house, Marjorie with the understanding that I would care for you and look out for your best interest. This is my decision." Angrily, Marjorie turned to Maureen, eyes pleading for an intervention, but poor Maureen had no idea what it was she had walked into. Shrinking back against the doorframe she gathered her apron into her hand and twisted the edges.

"Jonathan is the head of the house, Marjorie. He decides these things." Marjorie, no longer interested in her sister and brother in law turned and left for the guest room. That had been before lunch and the girl had barely come out of her room since then. Jonathan, feeling slightly guilty for angering the her simply allowed her to take her meals in her room and made no move to force her out on her last day in Virginia. However, he did not feel guilty enough to go back on his decision.

Taking the last sip of his tea, Jonathan rose from his seat and blew out the candle before turning down the hallway. He was as quiet as possible as he prepared for bed, but even then as he sat down he felt Maureen roll over.

"You're up late."

"I could say the same about you."

"What were you thinking about?"

"This morning; what else?" He sighed as his body sank into the bed, relaxing.

"Do you really think it was necessary not to allow her to go?" Maureen asked shyly, sitting up in the bed.

"Would it have been acceptable in Boston? What would Claudette and Rebecca have had them do?"

"Oh, you're right. I know you're right. I just hate seeing her so upset. This was supposed to be her vacation."

"I know."

"She'll never want to come back."

"Yes, she will. Eventually. One day she'll realize how we were looking out for her." They fell silent as Jonathan found her hand lying on top of the blanket. "I think it might be important," he spoke after a few minutes, "that you write Rebecca and let her know that Marjorie may be needing a little more guidance on societal affairs so that she doesn't make a drastic mistake."

"I'll do it as soon as we get back from the train station tomorrow."

"I think that is best." He leaned over and kissed the side of his wife's cheek before scooting down in the bed. "Get some sleep. It's late and the train leaves early in the morning." He had to admit he was looking forward to having his family back to normal.

_There's chapter 21! I hope you enjoyed it._


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

The rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock could be heard all the way into Joseph's study. It was a harsh break in the tense silence that made the atmosphere seem even more overpowering. Aside from that, though there was nothing. There was no movement, there was no words, not even the paper Joseph held in his hands dared to rustle and Rebecca, staring at him from across his desk, was doing her best to not even breath. Instead, she watched her father intently, trying to gage his reaction.

Suddenly, Joseph sat back in his chair, lowering the letter he had been reading to his lap. Rebecca heard herself release the breath she had been holding.

"Is this all Maureen says?" Joseph lifted the paper in his hands and, flipping it front and back, glanced over the letter once more. "She's not very specific."

"Maureen doesn't tend to work on specific details. She's too nonconfrontational for that, but I'm fairly certain that whatever happened last week with Marjorie had to have been reasonably big or she never would have written."

"What do you think happened?"

"I couldn't imagine."

"Rebecca…"

Rebecca took a deep breath. "Perhaps she's been feeling a little lonely all the way in Connecticut by herself. After all, the rest of us are relatively close geographically or have families of our own. She doesn't really have that."

"Do you think she's unhappy?"

"She hasn't said anything about being unhappy, but she didn't seem too pleased at Christmas time."

Joseph frowned. "No, she didn't, did she?" This is the precise reason Joseph knew that he never would have been able to raise Marjorie himself. She never spoke of her feelings. If this had been Michaela, she would have come to him by now and told him what the matter was. With Marjorie, he was left guessing. For an instant, Joseph's eyes rested on Elizabeth's picture sitting at the corner of his desk before continuing to scan the room. Elizabeth would know what was wrong with her daughter. Why did it have to be so hard for him? Why couldn't he just understand her the way he could Michaela?

"Perhaps she's just homesick." Rebecca offered.

"Well if that's the case perhaps I should start searching for some finishing schools closer to Boston so she could visit more often."

"That might be nice." Joseph was still thinking about the arrangement that would have to be made when he heard the front door slam shut and the quick click of heels against the hard floor of the foyer. He looked up just in time to see Michaela stick her head around the corner and smile, but as soon as she saw Rebecca sitting there, she frowned and began backing away again. She didn't want to interrupt anything.

"No, no it's alright. Come in." Joseph beckoned to her with his hand and Rebecca turned to see whom he was speaking to.

"Hello sweetheart. How was your day at school?" Rebecca asked as Michaela leaned over to kiss her on the cheek before moving to stand by her father.

"It was rather nice." Michaela leaned against the hard wooden arms of Joseph's chair and Joseph wrapped his arms around her keeping her close.

"Rebecca and I were just talking Michaela."

"What about?"

"Well, I was thinking that this weekend we may take the train to Hartford and visit Marjorie at Ms. Peabody's."

Michaela curled her nose. "Why?" She wasn't sure she cared much about seeing Marjorie anymore, not after Christmas.

"I think she may be a little homesick and a little visit may make her feel good."

"Oh. Then, I suppose that would be alright."

"Well if I'm not mistaken there may be an exhibit at the art gallery. We could take Marjorie to go see it and have dinner with her." Michaela smiled at this. Perhaps Marjorie would be a little happier since she didn't have to come home when she didn't want to. Maybe if they visited her in Hartford she would show them around. Michaela nodded at the plans set before her. "Good. I'll make sure Harrison obtains the tickets for us." He looked up to Rebecca who was nodding.

"I think that may help a lot." She whispered.

* * *

Marjorie sat on her bed, leaning comfortably against her headboard while she flipped through the latest issue of _Godey's Ladies Magazine_. From all she could tell this season the hair was to be worn up in the back with two or three ringlets bouncing in front of the ears. Frowning, she studied the fashion plates, twisting and turning the magazine to see all around. It didn't look too difficult to do. With a little practice, she couldn't see why she couldn't manage that. Perhaps Sarah would let her practice on her sometime later. Marjorie settled the book back down into her lap as she continued to flip through.

A soft knock at the door threatened to interrupt her thoughts, but Marjorie wasn't quite ready to relinquish her peace just yet. She beckoned the visitor to enter without even looking up for the pictures. The knob twisted and swung open and yet no one entered the room. Finally looking up from her magazine, Marjorie felt her face flush. Stephanie, one of the servant girls, was standing in the doorway.

Stephanie, a small girl, smaller that Sarah, who rarely spoke. She was a wonderful little women and a great pet to most of the little girls who simply adored her, but for the older girls at Ms. Peabody's she seemed to just fade into the background. Stephanie rarely ever spoke, although most of the time it was quite apparent what the girl was thinking. Once during a bout of fascination over Stephanie, Marjorie had created a story for her, in which Stephanie had once been the daughter of a lord and lady of England but was orphaned at thirteen. Somehow, she managed to sneak aboard a ship in order to cross the Atlantic. While on a trip to New York, Ms. Peabody found the girl and took her in. Marjorie, often forgetting the story was of her own creation, couldn't help, but wonder if Stephanie was ever jealous of the girls who attended Ms. Peabody's school seeming that her rightful station in life was to learn with them not to serve them.

Now, the two girls merely stared at one another, a little disappointment shone in Stephanie's eyes while Marjorie seemed slightly embarrassed as she watched the servant girl's eyes travel from the bed to the empty lounge couch back to the bed. Marjorie understood. It was very impolite to recline on the bed after the servants made them in each morning, but when Marjorie had made it back to the room after class she hadn't really cared where she sat; she was ready to relax. Besides, how would anyone know if she sat on her bed or not? Apparently, she had been wrong and now the elephant had entered the room as Stephanie tried to divert her eyes, knowing that both girls were thinking the same thing.

"You have a visitor, ma'am." Stephanie squeaked out, her eyes trained at the foot of Marjorie's bed. _Oh, for heaven's sake the girl gets her feelings hurt far too easily._ Marjorie, trying to act as normal as possible, flipped the book shut and swung her legs off the bed.

"Who is it?"

"I'm not too sure ma'am the Ms. sent me up here." Could it be? Marjorie tried to wrack her brain to determine what Benjamin's plans had been for the day. Could he have come over to surprise her? She hadn't gotten to see him really since she had come back to school last Saturday and that had been a week ago.

"Thank you, Stephanie." With a slight nod, the girls had vanished from the room.

Marjorie had a little more of a hop to her step than she did when she finished classes. Glancing into the mirror, she repined a few loose locks and pinched at her cheeks until she had a slightly rosy glow. She dabbed a little perfume on her wrists and under her ears before standing back to look at herself. It would have to do; she didn't want to make Benjamin wait much longer than was necessary. Draping a shawl across her shoulders and grabbing for her gloves, Marjorie left the room.

The young woman all but bounced down the stairs in her excitement and she was considerably lucky that Ms. Peabody nor any of the other mistresses caught her moment of impropriety. She landed at the bottom of the stairs and took a moment to smooth out her dress before turning to enter the drawing room. Having taken two steps inside the threshold she stopped dead in her tracks.

"What are you doing here?" Marjorie's eyes lowered into a glower.

"What that's a fine hello." Michaela replied sarcastically before she felt her father's hand press firmly into her shoulder. It was a warning.

"Marjorie, you look lovely this afternoon." Joseph smiled to see his daughter so grown up. She was just so beautiful. His smile however was not returned. "Please, have a seat dear." He motioned to an armchair as he moved to take the one setting next to it. Marjorie begrudgingly obeyed. She was so disappointed. This simply wasn't fair; she was ready to see Benjamin not her father.

"How are you Marjorie?" Joseph leaned back in his seat. He had to admit everything was a little awkward. Marjorie seemed to stare at him blankly, and Michaela simply sat with her arm crossed over her chest glancing around the room. He wasn't sure where to start to voice his concerns and plans.

"I'm fine." She started back at him. "What are you doing here?"

"Well… I was… we… I was concerned that you might be a little homesick and Michaela and I thought we'd come for a visit."

"Well, I'm not."

"Are you certain? Several of us have been worried about you. You've been acting so different lately."

"Is this about Spring Break? Maureen wrote you didn't she?"

"She said that you seemed a little off."

"Well I'm fine."

Joseph stared at his clasped hands. "You know, Marjorie if you wanted we can make arrangements for you to attend a school closer to Boston." Marjorie's eyes grew big and she shot straight up in her chair.

"What? No! You can't!"

"Calm down." He soothed, taken about by the force of her words. "I'm not going to make any moves unless it's something you want."

"Well I don't want it!"

"Ok, alright." Joseph glanced over to Michaela who was staring wide eyed at her sister. For a moment, their eyes met and Michaela, tilting her head gave him a sympathetic smile. "Why don't we put this conversation off until after dinner? Michaela and I thought we'd treat you and take you to see the George Mason exhibit at the art gallery."

Marjorie shifted her gaze between her father to and Michaela. What, did they think that they could just waltz in her and make her plans for her Friday? She didn't want to go out with them. She wanted to stay in with Sarah and practice with her hair and possibly see Benjamin if he came over. "I think I'll pass on the offer."

"Marjorie, we've come all this way to spend a little time with you."

"You said you wouldn't make me do anything I didn't want to do and I don't want to go to the art gallery. Thank you." Joseph took a deep breath to control his temper. Why hadn't he thought that there might be other plans for her this weekend? He nodded rising from his chair.

"Of course, you must have plans with your friends."

"I do."

"Well, Michaela and I will let you get on with your evening. Would you like for us to stop by to take you to breakfast in the morning?"

Marjorie shrugged. "I don't care."

"Alright, we'll see you then."

Joseph reached for Michaela who had watched the scene in utter silence and helped her to her feet. Placing a hand at her back, he guided her from the drawing room. Michaela could feel the gentle way his thumb moved up and down between her shoulders. He was upset and that made Michaela even more angry at her sister. Couldn't Marjorie see that he was trying to do all he knew how? The least she could do was met him half way. At least Marjorie had managed to summon enough manners to actually walk them to the door.

When they stepped out onto the stoop both Joseph and Michaela turned back to Marjorie to offer their goodbyes one last time. Joseph tapped the side of Marjorie's chin and smiled at her despite the fact that she seemed to flinch.

"You look beautiful. Enjoy yourself with your plans tonight." Michaela wasn't nearly as nice and instead fell to glaring at her sister with open disdain. She was hoping to communicate her disappointment and seemed to have succeeded since Marjorie who happened to catch Michaela's eyes turned a light shade of pink before returning to Joseph and lessening the harsh tone she had used with him earlier.

"Thank you Father."

* * *

Michaela wandered back and forth in the still quietness of the gallery, gazing at the vivid colors that danced along the canvases splayed against the bleached walls. They were all so beautiful. Michaela walked eagerly from painting to painting, stopping long enough to tilt her head to the side, to consider the new scene before her and then moved on anxious to see what was next. As a result of this eagerness, she had managed to get quite ahead of her father who was taking his time to consider all aspects of the work.

After making it all the way through the exhibit once, Michaela turned back around and went in search for Joseph. She found him standing before the canvas that was by far her favorite. It was the image of a young girl sitting at her dressing table and staring into the mirror. While the viewer faced the back of the maiden one could see the reflection of her elegant face through the mirror. The girl has smooth ivory skin, flushed cheeks, and rosy lips. Her eyes were a glistening green and her eyebrows arched innocently across her face. At her throat was tied a ribbon choker with a cameo pinned to the front. She was wearing a ball gown with a low-neck line and small capped sleeves. Her hair was coiled and piled on top of her hair. The gentle curve of her neck arched in one direction while her arms lifted above her head in an effort to place a cluster of verbena into her curls. The painting was titled _The Spring of Youth._

Michaela walked up next to Joseph and tucked her hand into his. She thought he might still be bothered by what had happened with Marjorie and she didn't want him to be upset. So perhaps she let him coddle her more this afternoon than either of them were used to. There was nothing wrong with that.

Joseph smiled to feel the soft hand fill his and he glanced down at the mismatched eyes staring up at him.

"I think she's very beautiful." Michaela whispered, rising to her toes to get herself closer to him. Joseph nodded. Indeed the mysterious girl was beautiful.

"Can you see all of the colors? The brush strokes make them stand out." Joseph reached down to pick Michaela up in order for her to see the painting at eye level. "Look at the smoothness of the lines around her jaw and her neck. All the elegant features are crisp and the further you move from her face the fuzzier the lines become."

"It makes it look like a dream."

"That makes it look like she, her face and hands is the focal point, all else fades into the background." Michaela leaned toward Joseph listening to his voice spoken in hushed tones as his fingers traced the lines he was referring too. His words painting their own meaning illustrating the picture even more and through them Michaela began to see not the story of the girl dressing her hair, but of the unseen man and his paintbrush. Slowly she began to understand the meaning of the painting. Everything had its purpose. Each color was chosen for a reason; the lines were made to have a desired effect. All aspects conveyed to support the hidden words of the artist. It made Michaela wish that she could paint as well as that. It took her breath away.

When Joseph had finished his analysis, he turned to look Michaela in the eye. She returned the look and smiled. Hunger and fascination filled her eyes as she tightened her hold on his neck. "Would you tell me about the next one?"

Joseph chose not to say anything and instead nodded, his long whiskers scratching against the folds of his jacket. Looking to the next painting, he gestured. "Ah a storm at sea. Can you imagine what it would be like to be in that boat?" Once again, he began to weave a tale that held Michaela captive.

* * *

_Merry Christmas everyone! I hope you enjoyed this little chapter._


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

It had been a little over a month since Joseph and Michaela had visited Hartford. Since that time, Marjorie's disposition had soured a little more each day. She didn't seem to put any effort into schoolwork. Some days she refused to get out of bed in time for breakfast. She had all but stopped talking to Kathleen and her mignons or any of the other girls for that matter except Sarah. It seemed as if Marjorie retreated to a world of her own, hiding behind the door of her bedroom and coming out only for meals, and guests (I think I need not add who exactly those guests were). The most disappointing thing, though, about the entire situation was the fact that no one noticed the changes in Marjorie. Yes, she talked to the other girls less, but she wasn't exactly bending their ear a lot before. In fact, the only person who seemed to be concerned at all was Sarah.

Sarah never knew exactly what had happened; only that Dr. Quinn had come to see his daughter on Friday evening, and Marjorie had refused his company. Sarah had scolded Marjorie on that decision. "You've always wanted him to come closer to you, Marg. Why did you turn him down?"

"Because he can't make my afternoon plans for me." That was all she replied, all she would say at all about the fact. It hadn't mattered that she had no plans; she was angered by the fact that he thought she belonged to him and he could visit her as he pleased and ignore her when that was more convenient as well. Marjorie had quickly changed the subject and tried to direct Sarah's attention to the hairstyles she had seen in _Godey's_ earlier that day. That task soon became just as frustrating when everything she had attempted failed miserably to look like the elegant coiffures that glittered the pages before her. In fact, it all looked like a mess, unable to be saveable. Sarah's tender scalp began to ache and she eventually grew bored with the attempt.

The next morning when Joseph and Michaela had shown up to take Marjorie out for breakfast she went under the encouragement of Sarah. However, she simply seemed unable to string more than three words together to answer the questions asked of her. She had politely told her father which restaurant was her favorite and answered his questions about school. Michaela (who was trying to help in any way possible) even asked question of her own. What parties did they have planned and did she have dresses for them all. Of course, Michaela couldn't have been less interested in any of these topics, but she had hoped they would get her sister talking. They didn't. Again, Marjorie answered what was asked of her and made no move to carry on the conversation. Eventually Michaela had quieted to a slow steam, glaring at her sister and saying nothing else to her, but conversing happily with their father.

The entire weekend had been a disaster, one from which Marjorie never quite seemed to recover from. Now, with one week of school left, Marjorie had just found out that she would have to relieve that nightmare over every day for months. She huffed as she entered the front doors of Ms. Peabody's. She shrugged her shawl off for the maids, but made no move for her wet shoes as she pranced into the parlor and sat down, bouncing a little as she landed on the sofa. Holding her telegram between two, white clenched hands, she reread the words.

_I'm afraid spending an entire summer in New York or Virginia is out of the question. You must come home to Boston for this holiday. Truly, JMQ M.D. _

The prospect of spending the entire summer in Boston made her want to stay in school forever, which was a feat considering how much she hated school. Why wouldn't he let her go away, and what on earth was going through his mind when he signed that telegram? _Truly? JMQ, M.D.? _Since when was he so formal with her? Usually, Joseph signed his letters to her as _your father, _or _lovingly_ never _truly_. Somehow, the formality made her even angrier. How was he supposed to expect her to want to have anything to do with him if he talked to her like that? Marjorie wadded the paper into a fist and threw it onto the ground. It ran across the carpeting before being picked up by a dainty little hand.

"What's the matter, dear?" Sarah asked, setting the paper on the end table in order for the maid to pick it up as she straightened the room.

"My father…"

"Uh oh."

"He said I couldn't spend the summer in New York with you, or in Virginia, or anywhere else for that matter! He says I must come to Boston."

"Well, you must understand where he's coming from."

"Not one bit."

"But you're his daughter and he hasn't seen you in so long."

Marjorie crossed her arms over her chest. "His choice." She turned her face toward the window; the evidence of her stubbornness outlined her mouth as she set her jaw.

"Not really. He came to see you. You're the one that told him no."

"But why here, why now?"

"Maybe he realized that giving you your space isn't what you really want. Maybe he realized when you say no you don't really mean it." Sarah sat across from Marjorie. They had had this conversation before and Marjorie knew exactly what she was going hear. Sarah was always so adamant that Marjorie tell Joseph exactly what her problem was, but Marjorie refused to take the advice. Instead, she just simmered, angry because he didn't seem to care.

"I highly doubt he's going to realize anything."

"Summer is a long time for you to be away."

"It's not undoable."

"I think he'd miss you." Marjorie flashed Sarah a glare and she knew that the conversation was now over. No more discussion was needed, Marjorie just wanted to fume. As if to emphasize the finality of Marjorie's determination, the front door opened and then shut. Disembodied voices seemed to take over the downstairs of Ms. Peabody's, shoving Marjorie and her problems to the darkened corners of the parlor as the gay party bounded through the rooms. Skirts swished, girls giggled, and boys laughed heartily as they came to the parlor door and stopped to look inside.

Kathleen was one of the girls standing with her beau, Jason Carrington. Aside from them, two several over couples were gathered about them.

"Hello, Marjorie, Sarah. Don't mind us we're just passing through." Kathleen laughed pulling Jason by the hand. He stopped for a moment and considered the girls.

"Hey did you hear the big news?"

"What news?" For the first time in a long time, Marjorie's eyes sparkled, in anticipation for some sort of gossip or excitement. Another boy came to stand next to Jason and nodded.

"James Polk received the Democratic nomination for President."

"Oh" As quickly as it had sparked her interest was gone and she leaned back in her chair. Why did they seem so excited? Honestly, she couldn't care any less.

* * *

"So I was at Miriam's today and I heard Robert and David talking in the parlor." Michaela looked up from the book she was reading. She waited for her father, who happened to be sitting across the room at his desk, to finish the page he was reading, certain that once he did he would turn his attention toward her at least for the time being. She, of course was right. As soon as Joseph turned the page, he looked up.

"Mike, were you two eaves dropping today? I thought you were going to leave those poor boys alone after last fall." Despite his initial efforts, Joseph couldn't keep his face straight. Yes, he had had to punish Michaela for her behavior the fall before when she had played so many practical jokes on Robert Hathwell, but in truth once he heard all of what she did, he couldn't help but laugh. Somehow, he imagined that Michaela was the only girl in all of Boston to think of such shenanigans.

"Oh I wasn't eavesdropping." Michaela bent back the edge of her page and then, with a flick of her thumb flattened it again. "Well, maybe we were at first but then we came in after we heard what they were talking about."

"And that was?"

"Well, they were talking about what they wanted to do after they finished school. Robert seemed rather convinced that he was going to go to West Point. He said that his father had been a graduate and he was very adamant that he would follow in Old Mr. Hathwell's footsteps.

Joseph nodded his head. "It's true. Robert's father was rather established in the army before his death."

"Yea well, that's not the neat part."

"Oh really? So what was the _neat_ part?" He mimicked her word choice.

"David said that he wanted to attend medical school." Michaela exclaimed happily. She was always excited to find someone who seemed to have the same interest was she did; even if some people didn't acknowledge her interest as being legitimate. Joseph's eyebrows, in return rose.

"Oh really now."

"Yes, isn't that wonderful?"

"It is. Did he seem to know where he wanted to go to school?"

"We didn't get to talk about it in depth. In fact, Robert really changed the subject before I got to ask David anything." Again, excitement entered her tone. "I was meaning to ask you about that too. He said that Mr. Polk was nominated to be president." Joseph nodded, realizing that he had forgot to tell Michaela the news of dinner as he had initially intended.

"He was and it was quite the ordeal. Everyone was expecting Van Buren to be nominated at the Democratic convention. When all of the members met to vote Van Buren got the majority of the votes, but he didn't get two thirds of all the votes to they had to repeat the election. They attempted that six times before someone inserted Mr. Polk into the mix and then finally on the ninth vote he managed the nomination. It's a historical move Michaela. We know very little about James Polk because no one anticipated anyone other than Van Buren would be elected."

Michaela listened to what her father said with a furrowed brow. "So what happens now?"

"Well from now until November the candidates will campaign. That is anything from travelling around and meeting people and asking for their votes to holding balls and rallies. Then Mr. Polk and the Whig nominee, Henry Clay will have a series of debates where they discuss back and forth what they believe and what they want to do for the country."

"When will that happen?"

"Closer to the fall of the year. Do you think you would enjoy seeing a debate on of these days?"

Michaela wasn't sure. "I suppose so, but I think I'd rather go back to visit the orphanage." She grinned slyly at having managed to circle the conversation back around to The Sacred Heart. She had talked about it off and on for the weeks since she had first met Gilda and her siblings and she was anxious for the day she got to go back and visit them. Joseph laughed.

"Well make plans to go back soon." With the conversation over each returned their attention to their books, enjoying the return of the quiet.

* * *

_Ok guys so I combined everything I had wanted to do in chapter 23 and 24 into this one chapter so guess what that means? We're over half way through with Part I. Yippeee! I hope you're enjoying it so far! Please leave me a comment and tell me what you've been thinking. _


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Michaela crouched in front of the small oak cabinet that sat next to the piano. The doors on the cabinet were thrown open to reveal shelves of thin sheet music crammed inline one after another. Michaela frowned. _We need more space_. Placing her finger on the edge of the books, she ran it back and forth across the spins feeling the rise and fall of the ridges as they passed under her finger. Softly she sang to herself as she continued the motion.

"Mary,Mary quite contrary

how does your garden grow?

With silver bells and cockle shells

and pretty maids all in…a…row_."_

When she finished her rhyme, her finger abruptly stopped and Michaela gingerly lifted it and peered underneath. She tugged at the book and, after a little pressure, finally managed to release the music from its enclosure. Flipping the music over in her lap, she eagerly considered what it was she had selected. _Barbra Allen,_ a little folk song her father used to sing to her to get her to go to sleep at night. Michaela smiled at the memory as she rose to her knees and pulled the bench out from underneath the piano.

Climbing onto the seat, she sat the music out before her and began to study the notes drawn across the paper. It took only a few moments for her to remember the tune and words and before long, she was enjoying the smooth melody as it rang from the piano.

In the few days since school had let out, Michaela had developed somewhat of a routine for herself. She moved seamlessly from reading to playing outside to having some piano time. At night, she tried to do the little sewing that Rebecca was encouraging her to do. Her interest, however, did not last long with her sewing and she soon fell to staring at the flame of the oil lamp and daydreaming. Joseph didn't put any pressure on her to continue with her project for the evening, but he didn't discourage her either. He just let her be. He left her alone to enjoy the things she wanted to do. Michaela, unlike many children her age, actually enjoyed being alone. She enjoyed the ability to think, dream, and read without anyone interrupting her. She enjoyed the ability to _be_ without having to _do_, and right now, _being _to Michaela was enjoying the piano.

"In Scarlet Town, where I was born,

There was a fair maid dwellin'

Made every youth cry well-a-day!

Her name was Barbara Allen.

All in the merry month of May

When green buds they were swellin',

Young Jeremy Grove on his deathbed lay

For love of Barbara Allen. " Michaela's sweet voice sang through the parlor.

Michaela was so consumed with her playing that she neglected to hear the carriage in front of the house or the footsteps on the front stoop. She did, however hear the front door swing open with enough force that it bounce off the wall behind it and then slam shut with equal force. Michaela jumped, nearly three feet in the air by her own estimation and she could still feel her chest tingling from the start when she got up to see what the matter was. She arrived in time to see her father enter and without looking her way disappear back toward his office.

Clasping her hands in front of her Michaela stared after her father and then up the stairs where she could hear someone shuffling around. She'd forgotten. Marjorie was coming home today.

* * *

Marjorie sat in her wooden chair with knees draw securely to her chest. It was the position she took on most occasions when she was home, staring out the window as if she longed to be free of the confines of her house, to soar along the wind and go where ever she pleased. A passerby on the street might have mistaken the girl for a prisoner with the way she stared so out the window.

Marjorie huffed. She was getting bored. After all, she had been sitting here for nearly three hours refusing to do anything. It had been an important point she had wanted to make, how Joseph's requiring her to be here did nothing but make her miserable. He could make her come to Boston, but he couldn't make her enjoy herself, or do anything for that manner. However, her plan was slowly backfiring.

In the hours since she had arrived in Boston, and they had had their spat at the train station, and then the silent ride home, Joseph hadn't been up to see her once. In fact, no one had. By now, she was very bored and the realization was beginning to dawn on her that she wasn't punishing anyone with her boycott but herself.

It was nearly dinnertime and her luggage still sat packed next to the door. Part of her still hoped that someone would relent and let her go to New York. If she were to dress for dinner she'd need to hang some dresses up and let the wrinkles fall out, but then again perhaps she wouldn't dress for dinner. Maybe she would just keep her traveling dress on for tonight, and perhaps even tomorrow. A devious smile split Marjorie's face as she began to consider all the things she could do to prove her point. Refusing to change her clothes for a few days would certainly be one of those things, and she was relatively certain that Joseph would say nothing to her, and if he did, he wasn't likely to force her to change. To top it off she would leave all her luggage packed. All she really needed was her drawing book and her arithmetic manual.

Hoping up from her chair, she retrieved the books from her overnight bag and placed them on the bedside table. Once that was complete, Marjorie decided that she would write a letter to Sarah. After all, there was no one else to tell all of the injustices of her life to. Pulling the white stationary from her little desk, she uncorked the ink and took her dip pen out. It took her a few minutes to get started as she was trying to find the right tone. Writing was so much more difficult that speaking because there was no tone or inflection. Her jokes wouldn't be as funny and she really didn't want to sound whiney, but she had to tell someone about what was going on, and no one else would understand except Sarah, not even Benjamin, whom she hadn't even told about her father and sister.

A knock on the door interrupted Marjorie's letter writing. That was all, just a knock on the door. Marjorie made no effort to speak her visitor into her room; she simply turned and stared at the closed door. After two full minutes, the door knob timidly turned and the door cracked open wide enough for Michaela to stick her head inside and look around. Once she laid eyes on her sister the door swung open the rest of the way and she stepped fully into the room.

The two girls stared at one another in silence before Michaela realized that it would be she who had to speak first.

"Good Afternoon, Marjorie."

"Hello."

"I thought I'd come and tell you welcome home." Marjorie flinched a little before she returned her attention back to the papers laid before her.

"Well, it certainly took you long enough."

It amazed Michaela that so few words could utterly destroy all good will she had managed to direct toward her sister, and she felt anger rise in her chest.

"Yes, well. You locked yourself behind your door and made it seem that whatever you were doing was so much more important that the rest of us." Marjorie said nothing and Michaela looked around the little room, noticing the unpacked bags. "But it doesn't look like you've been doing nearly as much as I thought." She said dryly before sitting at the end of the bed.

"Yes, well I plan on letting everything packed just a little longer. Who knows, maybe I won't be here as long as everyone thinks."

Michaela rolled her eyes. "Father plans for you to spend the summer in Boston. You're not going against his wishes."

"'Going against his wishes'" Marjorie mumbled. "Listen to yourself; he even sounds like a despot."

"He is not."

"Why must he make us do things against what we want? He has all this talk about not making us do what we don't want, but here I am."

"Maybe he makes us do thing because he is our father and he knows something that we don't. Maybe he wants to teach us something!"

"Oh please."

Michaela felt her anger boil over and she was unable to control herself. "The only reason you want to see him as tyrannical is because it's convenient to you. If he is wicked to you then your justified in the way you treat him, but it isn't so Marjorie. All he wants is for you to be home and to be happy, and he is trying so hard to make that happen. Just meet him half way." Michaela thought it reasonable, what she was asking. There was nothing impossible in Marjorie at least acting civil and she knew that it would make the summer less painful for them all. Therefore her frustration was understandable when Marjorie made no move to outwardly acknowledge the logic behind Michaela's reasoning, but instead shook her head and mumbled "if he wanted me to be happy he'd let me go to New York."

Michaela jumped from the bed and let out a screech of irritation. "Stubborn!" She glared at Marjorie only to find her staring obliviously back. "Do whatever you want. I don't care." Michaela turned for the door and slammed it shut behind her. The crack of wood on wood vibrated through the entire house.

* * *

If anything could be said of Marjorie during her first few weeks home, it would be that she kept her word. She made life as difficult as possible and used every opportunity to point out that Boston is not where she wanted to be.

It was three days after her arrival that she first changed her clothes from the traveling dress she'd worn on the train. Even this, however was not of her own desire. Her hand had been forced. On the night of her arrival, Joseph merely took note of her failure to change for dinner. Marjorie didn't miss the look, but he chose not to say anything. The next morning at breakfast, he mentioned the fact off handedly. "I didn't see much of a reason to change." She had replied before taking a rather large bite of biscuit and thus ending the conversation then and there. By lunchtime, however Joseph was more adamant.

"I thought we'd go to the park today and have a picnic." he noticed the way Michaela smiled at his suggestion. "but in order to do that, Marjorie, I must insist that you change your clothes." Marjorie defiantly leaned back in her chair, eyebrows raised, wondering what he would do.

"I like this dress Father. I want to wear it a little longer, besides I don't have anything else out."

"Are you telling me that you have yet to unpack?"

"I thought it would be a waste of time." She strained a yawn. "Oh Father I do believe I'm a little tired. I don't suppose I'll go to the park today." There was no regret in her voice as she stood from her seat, and Joseph could hear Michaela loudly sigh to his left. He mistook Michaela's expression of frustration for that of disappointment and felt his own anger flare at his inability to not only make Marjorie be agreeable but also to keep Michaela from disappointment.

"That's fine, Marjorie." He stood, himself, and followed her into the foyer, leaving Michaela to linger after them. "You don't have to come with us, but you will spend that time in your room. You will not come out while the two of us are gone. You will not come out of your room to eat or see any visitors until you change your dress." Marjorie kept her back to him, not willing to let her see the apprehension for the decision she'd made. Regardless of what her father said now, she had decided to do this and she will not change her mind. As she ascended the stairs she could hear the rustling of clothing as Joseph and Michaela donned their outer wear. She was almost halfway up the stairs when she heard her name once more.

"Oh and Marjorie." Joseph waited for her to turn before he continued. When she did, he eyed her with a look that shook her very foundation and his voice lowered to a warning tone. "You have no idea what it is like to live under a tyrant."

The words nearly knocked her backwards. How did he…? Slowly her mouth opened as she shifted her eyes to Michaela. "You little snitch!" She spat out the words as if they were poison in her mouth. Michaela physically recoiled at the accusation. Yes, they had argued before but for a second Michaela heard something different in her sister's voice; she saw something different in her face. Was it… was it loathing? Michaela felt a warm arm wrap around her back and pull her close, but for once it didn't make her feel any better. No one had ever looked at her with such anger before. She found she didn't really like the feeling.

That night at dinner, Joseph had refused to let Marjorie come down to eat unless she changed, and he refused to allow Martha take her something. Michaela had actually begun to fear that he'd let Marjorie starve, but when she voiced her worry he merely laughed. "Don't worry, my Mike. She won't starve." He ran his hand down her hair, which had pulled from its ribbon. After dinner, he allowed Marjorie to come down and eat by herself.

After one more day of Marjorie's refusal to change her clothes, Joseph decided it was time to take action. He would bet Marjorie at her own game. Did she really think that she could come home, disrupt everything and he'd simply allow it? Yes, he knew she didn't want to come home, but it was necessary. There were so many things that needed to be planned this summer, and he had actually held hopes that he could salvage his failing relationship with his daughter. The realization at New Year's had left him said, and bothered by the fact that somehow Marjorie had grown so far from him. He felt that in some way he had failed Elizabeth. What would she think if she could see her daughter now?

In order to solve the problem at hand, Joseph instructed Martha to enter Marjorie's room at night after Marjorie had gone to bed. Knowing she probably was sleeping in a night dress at least, he had Martha take not only the wrinkled and distressed traveling dress, but all of her luggage. The next morning, Joseph appeared at a very angry door and instructed his daughter that unless she wanted to have to travel the house in her night clothes she would put on the dress he gave her. Marjorie's hands were tied and she was forced to comply. Thus begun their routine that had stretched on for well over four weeks now.

Somehow everything slowly began to dissolve under Marjorie's presence. She continued to come up with schemes of defiance and Joseph matched her step for step. Sometime he would spend hours into the night, thinking on the best course of action with which to react to his daughter's antics. This distraction consumed most of his time away from the hospital, and Michaela began to fell herself fade into the woodwork. Her relationship with her sister was almost openly hostile now, when they actually talked, at least. The house on Mount Vernon Street was big enough that for the most part they managed to avoid each other all together. Michaela didn't mind entertaining herself by day, but the big difference came at night when her father came home. He just always seemed so busy. He was arguing with Marjorie, or dealing with her latest disaster. Sometimes he had to bring patient files home and had to work with those. Michaela tried to understand that he couldn't do everything, but despite her best efforts, she missed him. It had been weeks since they'd gone on a picnic, or she'd met him at his office. They hadn't been out to eat for a while now, and the last time they went to the gallery was when they'd visit Marjorie.

Michaela had tried not to say anything; she felt silly telling these things to her father, when she knew that he was simply doing his best. However at the end of a very trying day, Michaela found she couldn't take it anymore.

It was nearly midnight when Joseph made it home and had just begun to sprinkle outside when he came in. Shaking off his coat and hat, he hung them on the rack next to the door. He heard a cough come from behind him and he stopped where he was, not turning around, but smiling nonetheless.

"Mike?" He turned in time to see a small little body unfurl itself from the top of the staircase and come slowly down. When she stepped in the light of the foyer, he could see faint traces of the tears that had been present mere minutes before. "Mike?" he repeated her name, but this time with a little more fear as he knelt on her level. Instinctively she made for him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and burying her head in his shoulder. She sniffed against him, as his arms enclosed around her and he lifted her effortlessly into his arms. He took her to his office where he knew a lamp would already be lit and sat down with her.

"What's wrong, darling?" He asked once he'd finally got them settled. Michaela wiped at her nose with the sleeve on her night dress.

"It's nothing important."

"Oh now. I don't think anything that would make you cry would stand for something as not important. It's important to me." He lifted her chin so he could see her face.

"It's just…." Her face screwed up as she considered the thought that had been bothering her all day. "Do you think it's ok if I said I like it better when it's just you and me.?"

"It's quite a change, isn't it, having Marjorie around?"

"I'm ready for her to go back to school." She mumbled against his chest.

"Did anything happen today that caused you to feel this way?"

"Not really. Marjorie and I had a fight over my piano playing. She said it was noisy cat scratches and threatened to throw a book at me if I didn't stop. That wasn't so bad, but with Miriam gone for a few weeks its lonely being here by myself."

"You've never been lonely before have you?"

"No," Michaela frowned. "It's just lonely when you have to tiptoe around your own home." The dryness of her words made Joseph chuckle. His laugh was contagious and Michaela felt herself smile too. "It wouldn't be so bad if I could just _be_ as I wanted."

"I imagine so."

"I'll be ok. I just miss you." Her voiced sighed a little, resigning herself to several more weeks of the same. She tightened her hold on Joseph.

Joseph ruffled her hair as he pulled her a little closer. He rested his chin on top of her head, thinking. It had been so long since he'd found the time to sit with her like this. He hadn't realized how much he missed it, and he hadn't realized how much Michaela needed it.

"I was thinking about tomorrow. I need to make some house calls. I think I'll be stopping by The Sacred Heart around lunch time. Would you like to go with me?" As his words hit home, Michaela sat straight up.

"Really? Tomorrow? I'd love to go."

Joseph had to smile. How was it that Michaela and Marjorie so different? Michaela was just so easy to make happy. "Good and everything that happened today will be wiped away with sleep. We'll have our own little adventure."

Smiles replaced tears as Michaela kissed her father on the cheek and squirmed from his lap.

"You'll sleep well now?"

"I will." She nodded, sending strands of hair falling in front of her eyes. She nearly hopped as she turned to race back to her room, smiling the entire way. She looked completely different from the child that had nearly crawled down the stairs mere minutes before, but that was the past now. Tomorrow she would be going back to the orphanage and she was so excited. She couldn't wait to see Gilda again.

_There's chapter 24. I hope you enjoyed it!_


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

The next morning, Michaela had a little more bounce in her step as she dressed. It was such a beautiful day! The sun was streaming steadily through the slits in the drapery, warming the room and flooding it with light. Michaela could hear the intensity of the wind as it pushed against her window; she couldn't resist opening it and sticking her head out. The harsh wind took her loose hair and made it dance around her head before she retreated inside. Staring at herself in the mirror, Michaela examined the tangled mass that she had just created. It was puffed about her head and mangled, and would take a lot of patients to brush out, but she didn't mind. Today she was going back to the orphanage. She would get to see Gilda and Tiffany and she would get to have lunch at her favorite café, but the best part was that it was going to be just her and her father, just like before.

Almost as if she had too much energy than she could actually contain, Michaela hopped from foot to foot, creating a little jig as she danced to her armoire.

"Mmm hmm hmm," Michaela created her own little song, bouncing her head back and forth as she landed in front of her wardrobe and stared at her dresses. What did she want to wear today? "Mmm hmm hmm."

She eventually settled on a light blue muslin day dress. It was actually one of her newest ones, and she wasn't even sure that she had even worn it before, but if that was fact then there was no time like the present.

It only took Michaela twenty minutes to don her dress and perform the rest of her toiletries (and in actuality most of that was the time it took to brush her hair). Even then, she was downstairs by eight thirty.

Coming down the stairs, Michaela could already smell Martha's pancakes wafting from the kitchen at the back of the house. Could this day get any better?

Michaela didn't really expect to see anyone downstairs when she headed to the dining room. She knew it would still be another five minutes at least before Joseph came down and Marjorie did her own thing in the mornings, so she was rather surprised when she entered the room to find her sister already sitting at the table. Michaela stopped abruptly inside the doorway, knowing Marjorie had yet to notice her presence and unsure if she wanted to be alone in the same room with her sister. However, the longer she stood there and watched Marjorie the more she forgot about all the stress her sister had caused.

Marjorie sat by herself at the set table. Her hands were in her lap and her head bowed over her plate, studying the place setting before her. Tilting her head to one side, she lifted her hand from her lap and traced the edge of the china plate before turning her attention to the silverware. She ran her hand up and down the smooth length of the knife before lifting it up and standing it straight against the table. She rocked the utensil back and forth against the tablecloth before taking it into her hands and, leaning back in her chair twirled it through her fingers. Her shoulders sagged with a deep sigh and she turned her eyes to the window.

Michaela wasn't entirely sure of what to make of her sister. She always saw her as mean and selfish, but now she just looked lonely. Despite what she really wanted to feel for Marjorie, the blossom of compassion began to bloom in her mind. She knew what it was like to be lonely; she spent all day being lonely yesterday, but then Father had come home and he had made it better. Marjorie didn't have anyone like that. Marjorie wasn't as scary as she thought, in fact she wasn't scary at all, and she was nothing to avoid.

Chewing on the inside of the cheek, Michaela recaptured the bounce in her steps as she entered the dining room. She smiled sincerely at Marjorie's frowning face.

"Good morning!"

Marjorie drew back at her sister's excitement. What was going on? They had spent the past four weeks avoiding one another, why was Michaela being so cheery now? "Good morning…"

"You look nice this morning." Michaela smiled at the puzzled look on Marjorie's face.

"Than…thank you?"

"You're welcome." A silence fell between them, but for once it was a comfortable silence. Michaela was content to unfold her napkin into her lap, while Marjorie searched for something to say.

"I like your dress."

"Thank you. It's new." Michaela smiled brightly. This was the closest thing they had ever had to a conversation; she was so proud of them! Slowly Michaela began to consider what to say next. If Marjorie were feeling lonely being away from her friends what would make her feel better. Instantly Michaela knew what the answer would be, though she tried desperately to push the thought from her mind. Somehow, her desire to see Marjorie actually smile for once won over her spending the day alone with her father.

"Um… I was wondering… um…" Marjorie looked up and stared at her quizzically. What was she trying to say? Michaela steeled herself before continuing. "Father and I are going out to do rounds at The Sacred Heart orphanage today and I was wondering if you'd like to come with us?" Finishing her thought, Michaela folded her hands on top of the table and stared at her sister waiting for an answer, but before it came, Joseph came walking into the room with his newspaper in hand.

"Good morning girls." Joseph took the time to smile at both girls before pulling his chair out from the head of the table and sitting down. "I must say that you wear that dress nicely Marjorie. I don't believe I've seen that one yet." He considered the older girl on his right and nodded to her. His tone held not a trace of frustration or anger having built up over the weeks. It was important for him to allow Marjorie to start over every day with a clean slate. He refused to let his anger flare unless it was provoked. After complimenting Marjorie, he turned toward Michaela and shot her a quick wink, sending a chill of flattery through her body.

"Father I was just telling Marjorie about our plans for the day." Michaela's words as well as the way in which it was said both surprised Joseph. "I told her that she could go with us if she wanted."

"Michaela's right. You're welcome to come if you want." Joseph did his best not to smile with pride. He wasn't sure what had happened before he had arrived, but he knew whatever it was it has rather important for Michaela to willingly give up her day alone with him and the children at the orphanage. He watched as Marjorie shifted her gaze from him to Michaela and back again. There was no hostility in her eyes, but confusion. She bit at her lip nervously and her hands fidgeted in her lap as she tried to decide what to do. Michaela had certainly thrown her off by her act of kindness and now Marjorie was left second-guessing everything.

"Umm… I think I'd prefer to stay here today." Finally making her decision, Marjorie focused her eyes in on the orange juice she had been sipping. Suddenly, as if remembering her manners, her eyes darted up and she mumbled, "thank you though."

The words seemed to suck all of the air out of Michaela. She wasn't sure if she'd heard them correctly or not. Did Marjorie just thank her? Speechless, Michaela turned to her father who met her gaze with an intrigued stare. _Good work_, he seemed to say. Michaela felt her lips curl bravely into a smile. Marjorie had actually thanked her for something she'd done.

As the three sat in silence, staring at one another, Marjorie became defensive. "What? It's not like I want to spend my afternoon with a bunch of sick brats." Her brows lowered once again into a scowl, but it didn't matter. She'd said thank you and she couldn't take it back now.

Joseph, amused at Marjorie's discomfort cleared his throat and reached for the paper. "Well, let's see what's happening in the world today."

* * *

"And the little fairies, with their glistening wings flew away to their home land leaving nothing behind but the soft smell of honeysuckles behind. 'Will we ever see them again,' Ella wondered out loud, sad to see her friends go. 'I don't know, but one thing is certain. We'll never forget them.' Taking his sister by the arm Peter turned them toward the warm little cottage to their new family happy to finally be home. They all lived happily ever after." Michaela shut the book she had been reading and looked around her.

She was sitting on the edge of one of the infirmary beds with children gathered around her. Some were well enough to sit on the floor at her feet and others were lying on the other beds. They were all small children, under the age of six and seemed to look at the pretty girl reading to them with a mutual sense of awe.

"Do you think they ever saw the fairies again, Miss Michaela?" _Miss Michaela._ The sound of those words together gave her a thrill. Everyone in her world was much older than she was and looked down at her as the cute little Michaela, but to these children she was the big kid. She was the one that could read to them and tell them stories. She could make up fun games and fix their toys.

"I don't know. What do you think?"

The little boy in the bed she sat on coughed and struggled to smile. "I think they had to. They were friends after all. Wouldn't Peter and Ella go out into the woods where the fairies lived?" All the children nodded in response.

"Well then that's settled. It was about Christmas time when Peter and Ella decided to visit the fairies once more. So setting out into the woods they took gingerbread and hot chocolate as presents for their friends."

"And the fairies had made them a new pair of mittens in return!" A cheeky little girl finished the tale that Michaela had begun to weave and brought it quickly to a close.

"That's right!" Michaela giggled.

A hand on Michaela's shoulder pulled her from her thoughts.

"Hi." Michaela smiled as Gilda slide onto the bed next to her.

"Hi. I'd been waiting for you to come. Ms. Level said you had to finish helping with the laundry."

"Yes, we're all done now. Would you like to see Jacob and Tiffany? They've gotten so much bigger since you saw them last." Michaela scooted herself to the edge of the bed.

"It'd like that a lot," and then "story time is over. I will see you all soon." The children, although disappointed didn't make any efforts to beg for her presence, but instead smiled and waved. One little boy gave Michaela a little hug when made her feel special indeed.

On their way out of the infirmary, Michaela caught her father's eye as he rose from one bedside to move to another. Lifting her hand in a slight wave, she received a little nod before Joseph returned to his work.

"Jacob is going to be so excited to see you." Gilda exclaimed as they walked down the hallway. "He's been talking about you."

"He has?"

"Yes, he calls you his ball buddy Oh and Tiffany's crawling now!"

"Really?" Gilda nodded. She was so proud of her little sister, and it was nice to have someone else who was just as excited in her accomplishments as well. Their mama would have been excited too. Gilda shook her head. She wouldn't think about that. Pa would be here soon and then they'd get to go home again.

"Hi!" The little cry bounded around the corner and hit Michaela full on, wrapping two arms around her waist. Jacob smiled up at her with gapped teeth.

"Hi!" Michaela answered back, matching his enthusiasm. He was a lot friendlier than he was the last time she'd seen him. Pulling from the embrace, Jacob held his hand out to Michaela.

"Come play wif me." Michaela relinquished her hand into his and he took Gilda's with the other before pulling them the rest of the way down the hallway.

They entered a room filled with many children ranging in age from four to seven. As if an announcement had been made, each child stopped with the games that they were playing and turned to look at the new girl, wondering if she was here to stay. Surely she wasn't. Ms. Level would have been with her instead of Gilda and Jacob. Still, the room quieted and Michaela was left to meet the curious eyes.

"Everyone this is my friend Michaela." Gilda said proudly, threading her arms through Mike's. "Her Papa is Dr. Quinn." Some of the children smiled softly, other, shyer children, drew back to the walls.

Grasping for something to do, anything, Michaela keyed in on Tiffany standing in a playpen in the corner of the room.

"Is this Tiffany?" She gasped, causing Gilda to beam. "You've gotten so big!" Mike reached down to pick up the little one who was sitting up and watching the older girl move toward her. Instinctively she felt for Tiffany's forehead, pressing against the smooth skin. She had no fever and her color had returned nicely. What's more is that her breathing had returned to normal. "You're so cute." Michaela tickled the baby's tummy, releasing squeals of happiness.

A gentle tug on Michaela's skirt turned her around as a little girl with flaming red hair looked up at her. "Ma'am, would you play with us?" Exchanging a look with Gilda, who merely smiled, Michaela knelt next to the child.

"I think that's a wonderful idea. What would we all like to play?" She turned and place Tiffany back in the pen.

"Let's play hide 'n' seek." An older boy stood up from his blocks.

"Or house." A girl cuddling a baby whispered sheepishly.

"Or duck, duck, goothe!" Michaela's eyes lit up as she heard the last suggestion.

"I think duck, duck, goose would work. What do you think, Gilda?"

"Perfect." Rounding everyone into a circle, Michaela was the last to land with an expressive flop.

"Who starts?"

An hour later, when Joseph was finished in the infirmary, he went in search of his daughter. He found her and Gilda sitting amidst several contently sleeping children, thoroughly exhausted from their earlier escapades. Mike and Gilda were talking quietly to one another, over a play tea set. Each of them held a baby doll in their lap.

"Father," Michaela looked up to see him standing in the doorway watching them. "I didn't realize that you were finished."

"Are you getting ready for lunch?"

"Yes sir." She turned to Gilda. "As good as our make believe cucumber sandwiches are. I'm thinking something a little more… real is in order." Gilda smiled at her joke.

Michaela made her way to her father; he in turn looked at her quizzically. "What's this?" He tugged on a lock of hair that now rested on Michaela's shoulders.

"Oh," she struggled to pull everything back into place. "We were playing duck, duck, goose and it got a little out of hand."

"She basically got tackled." Gilda interjected making Joseph laugh about her bluntness.

"Well I believe I came just in time, didn't I."

"Bye Gilda. I hope I get to come back and see you soon."

"Me too."

"We'll just have to make sure that that happens." Joseph watched as the two girls embraced before Michaela came back to him.

She took his hand, wrapping her fingers around his ring finger and pinkie as they descended the stairs together. Joseph knew that her quietness was a sign of her contentedness. She quietly observed the rooms as they passed the staircase and the windows in the entryway. When they reached the door and stepped back into the bustling city of Boston once more, she turned to him, winking in the sunlight.

"That was really fun. Thank you for bringing me back."

* * *

Marjorie had retreated to her room not long after breakfast. She was still rather shaken and perplexed from the conversation this morning. What had happened? Michaela came in cheerful and peppy, dishing out compliments and she couldn't do anything but sit there. "You look nice this morning." Why had such a compliment even mattered to her? She scolded herself for being soft and even considering the offer Michaela had given her. It was just a moment of loneliness, of missing Sarah and Benjamin and Christopher that made her give in, thankfully the arrogant presence of her father corrected her and set her back on the right path. She wouldn't let that happen again.

Sitting in her room, Marjorie could hear the ring of the front door and felt excitement grip her breath as she struggled to her feet. Who on earth was that? Surely most of her father's colleagues knew that he'd be working this morning. Could it have been one of Michaela's friends? The thought alone destroyed all traces of eagerness that she may have had, but despite her displeasure over meeting one of Michaela's friends, her curiosity, as well as loneliness got the best of her, and she stepped out of her room to see who it was.

She came around the corner just in time to see Martha talking to a tall young man with dark colored hair and secretive smile. He was listening to what Martha was telling him intently. As soon as Marjorie saw the handsome young man the excitement magically reappeared and she continued down the stairs. Stopping about halfway, she cleared her throat drawing the mysterious boy and Martha's eyes to her. She flushed under the gaze.

"Hello." She greeted, pulling her shoulders back and clasping her hands behind her.

Robert Hathwell felt his heart beat a little faster in his chest. Who was this and why had he never met her before? Gripping his hat tightly in front of him, he made a timid step into the foyer.

"Hello. I… I'm Robert Hathwell. My little sister, Miriam, is a good friend of Michaela's."

"Oh, I'm Marjorie, Michaela's older sister." She continued down the stairs until she was standing before him. "Is there anything I can help you with?" She asked, effectively pushing Martha out of the conversation. Martha, none too proud about the fact obliged to open the door a little wider.

"Oh well, I had just stopped by. Dr. Quinn told me that he would let me borrow a book on the Roman Empire. I didn't realize he wouldn't be home. I can come back later."

Marjorie hastily shook her head. "Oh no, please stay. I'm sure we can find it in the library." She turned to lead the way into the library stopping once to turn back to Robert. "Would you like some tea?" Rising a brow in Martha's direction, she sent the older woman off the kitchen grumbling under her breath.

Forty-five minutes later used teacups and half-eaten scones littered the tea tray. Marjorie sat on the edge of her seat giggling.

"Oh that's priceless! Michaela with paint smeared across her dress!" Robert shared in her laughter.

"Well I can assure you that I got my comeuppance as well."

"Oh dear, what happened?"

"Oh not much… a little chocolate cake in my shoes."

"Oh that must have been awful." Marjorie cooed, sticking her lower lip out. Robert laughed again under the display of compassion.

"I deserved it. Trust me."

"Oh well I'll take your word for it."A subtle smile stretched across Marjorie's face as she stared at the boy in front of her. She had had such a wonderful time this afternoon once he showed up. They had managed to find the book he was looking for and then enjoy their tea. She had enjoyed listening to some of his stories about his friends and school. Even the ones about her sister had been entertaining and had made her forget her frustration from that morning. Now, she watched as he glanced at the clock before rising.

"I suppose I should be leaving now. Tell your father I said thank you." He rose from his seat and considered her with a slight bow. "Oh and Miss Marjorie, I was wondering how much longer you'd be in Boston."

"Not much longer I suppose. Summer will be over shortly and I'll be going back to Hartford."

"That's a shame. Do you think your father would mind if I stopped by one evening." Marjorie's smile brightened.

"I'll make sure that you have an invitation to dinner one night."

"All right then."

Marjorie watched him take his coat and hat before showing him to the door.

"I'm glad you stopped by. It was nice to have someone to talk to this afternoon." Marjorie forgot herself for a moment as she leaned against the door. Her heart fluttered as she watched Robert stop on the steps. He turned back to her a crooked smile twinkling in his eyes.

"Well I'll make sure to stop by again." He nodded to her, a final, heart stopping motion sending loose locks falling into his eyes before turning around and disappearing down the street.

* * *

_There's chapter 25. Hope you enjoyed it!_


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

"How dare you think you can force me to perform such an atrocity?" Marjorie's enraged voice carried through to the backyard where Michaela sat curled in the arms of her maple tree. Michaela sighed helplessly and waited for her father's voice to reply, it had been like this all day. Marjorie had spent the majority of the morning yelling at one person or another. Joseph, Rebecca, Martha, even Michaela herself caught the fire from Marjorie's mouth. It had gotten to the point where Michaela couldn't even stand to be in the house any longer; she retreated to her safe haven, the gentle swooping arms of her inhumane friend, just after lunch but this didn't seem to be any better. Inside Joseph's voice never counteracted the angry accusation of his daughter. No doubt, he was still trying to keep his temper in check.

"I'm not someone you can control like you do Michaela!" Again, Marjorie seemed to scream loud enough to announce her anger to everyone in the neighborhood. Michaela began to scratch nervously at the bark under her hands, chipping away the wood that got in her way.

"That is uncalled for. You will leave your sister out of this!" Finally, Joseph's voice rang out, shattering his attempt to stay in control as his protectiveness for Michaela took over. Michaela cringed. She wasn't sure she'd ever heard him yell before that, certainly not at her. Usually when they had disagreements he got very quiet and went to sit in his office. That was enough to make Michaela feel awful. She pulled her knees to her chest in an effort to ward of the persistent chill she felt.

"Oh yes, defend her. You're always looking out for your precious little Mike while you don't care what's best for me!" Michaela was glad she couldn't see her father's face at the moment because she knew Marjorie's words had hit the mark. The accusation was entirely false, but it hurt nonetheless. Joseph however countered even before Marjorie had finished and they shot back at one another relentlessly.

"This is what's best for you. This is what needs to be done!" Michaela covered her ears, willing herself to block out the anger.

"Mother would never make me do this!"

"This is precisely… what your mother would make do!" Despite her best efforts, Mike could still hear the angry shouting, first speaking of Marjorie then bringing her into the mess and now turning toward her mother. Her mother. Tears burned her eyes and she wished it would stop. Just make it stop, anybody. She squeezed her eyes shut. She wouldn't cry now it was pointless. She sniffed against her runny nose.

After a few minutes sitting there, humming loud enough to herself that she couldn't hear anything else, Michaela became more and more aware that something was hitting her on the side. She opened eyes to find a familiar boy standing underneath her with a handful of rocks.

"David." She wiped at her nose and eyes as she crawled further across the limb in order to see him better.

"Hello Rapunzel. Decided to take a little nap?" He smiled at his own little joke as Michaela blushed at the attention before realizing what it was that he had actually said.

"No," she said sadly. As if to further illustrate her situation more words echoed from the house. David, standing on the outside of the fence stared over the wooden beams toward one of the back windows. He could see the fuzzy outline of people as they moved around in what he knew was Dr. Quinn's office. He turned sympathetic eyes back to Michaela. "I was just trying to transport myself somewhere else." She added quietly.

David chewed on the inside of his cheek, unsure of what to say next.

"Father and Rebecca are telling Marjorie that she's to have a coming out party." Michaela explained further. "The only downfall is that it will be after her birthday in November and she'll have to stay here after school starts."

"How dare you say that? Mother was too good for you!"Marjorie's hate filled voice echoed once more and Michaela visibly recoiled. Again, she had to fight the desire to cry.

"Hey, do you know what?" David chipped in a little too enthusiastically for the situation at hand.

"What?" Michaela's tone didn't really hold the same excitement.

"I was just going for a walk to nowhere in particular. I thought about going down to the bay or strolling through the park. Would you like to come with me?" He watched with pleasure as Michaela's eyes grew big.

"Really?" She sat up in the tree. David just shrugged.

"Yea, I'd love the company."

"Come around to the front and I'll see if it's ok with Martha." Michaela hopped out of the tree in one leap and in a flash was inside.

David turned to stumble around the house and make his way to the front. Initially when he had set out this morning he had planned to have a quiet walk to the park. He had a book in his pocket and had thought he'd do a little reading while people watching. It was only by chance that he was walking near the Quinn house or that he looked up to see Michaela in her tree when he did. She just looked so miserable, eyes squeezed shut with tears running down her cheeks that he had to see what was wrong. He hadn't minded so much, giving up his day of solitude after he saw the look of relief that had graced his little friend's face. She didn't need to sit out there by herself; he needed to get her away for a while.

By the time he made it around front Michaela was coming down the steps.

"All set?"

"Yes, Martha just said I needed to be home before dinner time."

"All right, then. Shall we?" With a playfully exaggerated bow, David offered his arm to Michaela who was taken aback by the gesture. Usually her father was the only one who offered her his arm. Despite the evident amusement in her friends gaze, she couldn't help but feel tingles through her spine. She felt like a lady, even if she was only eleven years old.

The pair wandered down to the bay and stared at the ships loading and unloading their cargo talking between themselves but neither feeling as though they had to keep up a conversation.

"Would you like a sweet cake?" David asked after a bit, turning toward a vender and walking away. He didn't ever wait for her reply.

"On no it's alright. David? David!" She followed him as he headed down the walk.

"Two please." He said, gesturing the number with his hand and exchanging his coins for the two cakes. By the time he turned around Michaela was standing next to him, frowning. "What? You don't like it?"

"You really didn't have to. It was enough for you to bring me with you." David shrugged leading them away from the vender.

"That guy's name is Stephen O' Riley." He started with a low voice, tossing his head back in the direction they had just come from. "He came here with his family from Ireland sometime last year. He hasn't been able to find any stable work and he has a wife with two children with one on the way. I like to see him whenever I come down here." David stopped abruptly and held the wrapped pastry before Mike. "So what do you think? Sweet cake?" He watched Michaela as she stared at the morsel in his hand. After a bit, the edges of her lips began to curl until she was fully smiling. She took the cake and breaking off a piece, took a bite.

"Oh. That's good."

"I'm glad. So you never did tell me where you were transporting yourself to."

"I'm sorry."

"When you were in the tree. Where were you trying to be?" Michaela just shrugged as she reached the railing. If she stood on her tiptoes, she could see over the railing into the water that splashed beneath them.

"I don't know. Anywhere."

"Nowhere in particular?"

"Well, perhaps someplace, but it's silly." Michaela lowered her head.

"Surely it can't be that silly."

"Well..." she still hesitated. "I read this book about the Indians out west. I was wondering what it would be like to be out there and meet those people."

"I imagine it would unlike anything you've ever experienced."

Michaela nodded "and a little scary, but I think it could be exciting, seeing the wide-open plains without another soul around. It would be so different from Boston where there are people and horses everywhere you look. Can you imagine what it would be like to ride a horse through the prairie, to feel the wind blow through your hair?"

"You know how to ride?"

"No." Michaela blushed, "but I've always wanted to learn. Father used to know how, but he says that the trade isn't very useful in the city." She took another bite of her pastry, taking the time to lick her fingers before changing the subject. "Tell me about school, David."

"What about it."

"I sort of overheard you saying that you were thinking about going to medical school."

"Oh yes, we'll that'll be a ways off. Once I finish my preparations at the Academy I hope to attend Harvard. Then I'll look at what I can find in ways of medical schools."

"Oh, we'll that's not bad at all. I was very interested to know what you were thinking. I'm planning on attending Medical school you know."

David nodded, a dry smile stretching his lips. "So I've heard. I was thinking that maybe your father may help me obtain an apprenticeship."

"Oh I'm certain he would."

"I was hoping I could talk to him about it soon."

"If you'd like I'll put in a word for you. I'm sure he'll know of something." The two shared a smile, comfortable in each other's presence. Soon, David pulled off the railing and tapped Michaela on the back.

"Come on, we need to get you home before dinner."

By the time they returned home, everything had settled down or at least quieted. Marjorie, in her room refused to come out for the rest of the night, leaving Joseph rather discouraged over how the evening had gone. He and Michaela took their meal in his study, him immersing himself in his work and she in her thoughts.

It had been a nice after noon. One unlike anything she had ever experienced before. She enjoyed spending time with David and having his attention. She liked the way she felt when he offered her his arm and even bought the sweet cake for her. Even their conversation about his future aspirations was fulfilling to her. Somehow, she saw that he had come to her with an idea wondering her thoughts on the matter. Yes, he only asked about her father, but he had asked with the consideration that she was an adult and could carry on her end of the conversation. There were no smiles of 'isn't she cute' or head patting. She had felt like a young lady, pretty and smart and she found she loved the way that label made her feel. At the end of the night, Michaela found herself with one question that begged to be asked. Did she always want to be the tomboy that she had always been, to climb trees, and run around the yard; or could she truly enjoy being a lady?

* * *

Michaela stood at the edge of Rebecca's desk, staring at the notes that were scattered across the top. Each note was for something different, a different task, something else to remember, and yet all of them would come together to plan the task at hand. Michaela picked up a paper that had a list of flowers scribbled down the side. The first two were scratched out with a single line.

"So why exactly do we have coming out parties?" Michaela looked over the desk to Rebecca, who was coming into the room with a new catalogue.

"Well, it is somewhat of an introduction to society. This is the event that says Marjorie is old enough to have suitors now and that she is of a certain social status."

"Even though she doesn't want to be introduced to society?"

"Yes, even then. A debutante ball is very important in the life of a young woman. On the night of her ball Marjorie will be introduced to many of the young men in Boston who are eligible to court her."

Michaela frowned. It all sounded so… ritual, like an elaborate ceremony whose only purpose is to marry Marjorie off. Was that her only option, to go through with this and marry?

"What happens if she doesn't want to court?" Rebecca was taking slightly off guard by the question, particularly because no one really ever asked it. What young woman of high social standing didn't seek the opportunity to marry and marry well? She sighed, a young woman who perhaps had aspirations of one day becoming a doctor. She saw no need to pull Michaela into the dim world where many childhood dreams never saw the light, not yet at least.

"Well," she wrapped her arm around Michaela, "I suppose then she'll just enjoy the evening for what it is and bask in the attention." She gave her sister a slight squeeze before letting her go. "There is much that needs to be done before then and we aren't helped by the fact that Marjorie refuses to cooperate."

"So what are you doing now?"

"We need to order Marjorie's ensemble, her dress and underpinnings. We need to secure music flowers and refreshments. Then we move on to decorations and guest lists." Rebecca pulled a neatly written list out from under the mass on her desk. She could remember sitting and helping her mother pick out everything about her own ball so many years ago. It was such a special occasion, and she would never forget just how close she felt to her mother at the time. Being the first-born daughter to the Quinn's her coming out had been one of the social events of the season and Elizabeth had spared nothing. Everything was perfect, the flowers, the music, and the dress. A notable debutante ball was one of the best gifts a mother could give to her daughter and since Marjorie no longer had the gift of knowing her mother Rebecca was determined to do that for her even if she did refuse to help at all.

"Oh that's pretty." Michaela's arm shot across the desk to tap at the fashion plate open on the desk.

"I thought about that one, but then I saw this." Flipping a few pages, Rebecca pointed out a beautiful full-skirted ball gown. It had three tiers along the skirt and the bodice was outlined in lace. The neckline was cut straight, sitting low on the shoulders and the sleeves were loose waves of lace that matched the design across the bodice. Michaela audibly sighed.

"That's beautiful, and she could were a broach there, in the center of the neckline." As Michaela continued to study the template, Rebecca studied her. Never before had her baby sister shown any interest in balls or dresses. It was only last year when she had to drag Michaela shopping for the ballet kicking and screaming. Of course, she enjoyed dressing up, but usually when someone was there to tell her what to wear and how to do her hair. Michaela had never been much interested in fashion. Rebecca smiled sadly; perhaps this was the beginning of the end. The fire and impulsiveness would diminish to be replaced with more ladylike qualities. Rebecca couldn't help but wonder if Michaela's ambitious dreams would die with it. As easy as that would make it on the girl in the future, Rebecca had to admit that she would be sad to see it go.

"She could wear some pink amaryllis in her hair and then those could double as the flowers in the décor." Michaela added.

"Pink amaryllis?"

"Yes, I think that would be lovely. Pink Amaryllis with powder blue ribbons." Michaela bobbled her head, certain of her decision.

"I like it." Rebecca nodded envisioning it all in her head. "Here," She pulled at another list from the bottom of her stack. "Tell me what you think about refreshments?"

* * *

_What did you think of chapter 26? I Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!_


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

"Rest assured Mrs. Croft. Little Terrance is growing just as he should. He's hitting all the milestones with plenty of time." Joseph smiled patiently at the fidgety young mother. This had been the third time she had seen him this month, not because her son was ill but because she was concerned that he'd yet to start crawling. Even now, the seven-month-old squirmed in his mother's arms, pressing his hands against her chest in order to pull away. She was steadfast though and snaking an arm around her son's back to counteract the force. She bent her head to coo soothing words into his ear. Joseph couldn't help but wonder if the child would crawl faster if his mother stopped coddling so much, perhaps letting him lie on the floor for an hour or two each day. Gingerly he suggested this, protecting the little mother's self-esteem while giving his medical opinion.

"Thank you Dr. Quinn." It helped just knowing that she could do something to help the process along.

Joseph nodded as he opened the door into the little waiting room for her and saw her on her way out. Once she was gone, he scanned the rest of the room. A few patients were waiting for his partner. He knew most of them by face, and many more by their case. He and Dr. Benton regularly consulted one another on some of their more difficult cases. He nodded as he came into eye contact with several people, and then his gaze settled on a very familiar face.

"David Lewis." He said, smiling at the young man sitting stiffly in a chair in the corner. David suddenly jerked upright to stand from his chair. Silently he cursed his nerves for the sudden action. Why on earth was he so nervous? He haphazardly ran his hands up and down the side of his trousers desperately trying to get rid of the dampness before offering his hand to the respected man before him.

"Dr. Quinn it's good to see you." David winced. Even his voice sounded shaky. "I was hoping I could talk to you if you had the time."

Joseph couldn't help but smile, amused at the jumpy young man before him. "Of course I have time. Actually, my next patient isn't due for another hour. Why don't we go back to my office and we'll have a talk."

David felt his mouth go dry preventing him from talking, and leaving him to nod his head clumsily. Joseph couldn't help but chuckle, clapping the boy on the back as he passed through the doorway to the back of the clinic.

"I must tell you how much I appreciate what you did for Michaela last week." Joseph took his seat behind his desk. Perhaps a little small talk would put the boy at ease. He had a feeling he knew what this was about; Michaela had made a few off hand comments that somewhat prepared him for a visit. "Having Marjorie home has been hard on her. She's used to it just being the two of us. It seems that things haven't been as… calm since Marjorie's return from school. The beginning of last week was rather rough on her, it was kind of you to step up and get her away from the house for a bit." David felt his cheeks burn under such a compliment.

"It was nothing at all, sir. She's actually quite a charming girl. I enjoyed the chance to get to know her better. The only time I really ever get to see her is when she's at the Hathwell home and …well… with Robert there…"

"I've heard the two put together can be somewhat explosive." Joseph chuckled, thinking back to the fall before. David too, laughed, beginning to relax under the Dr's calming disposition. Joseph sensing this folded his hands across his desk.

"Tell me," His tone became more professional, "what bring you to my office today, Mr. Lewis."

"Well Doctor Quinn, I have given a lot of consideration into my future. I have one more year at the Academy and then I hope to move to Harvard. I hope to start my preparations into the field of medicine soon. I was hoping that you may be willing to take me on as an apprentice."

"I see," Professionalism was still in place. Joseph had no desire to give in so soon. "Why would you like to work here, David?"

"I understand that the key essential for having a good education in the field is having a good mentor. If," David stuttered a little before her found the courage to speak his mind. "If I may say so sir, you're incredibly well respected both as a physician and a man by most of the citizens of Boston as well as by me. I would consider it an honor if you would be willing to teach me the things that you know."

Satisfied at the young man's answer Joseph nodded. It was important that David realize the true purpose behind the art of Medicine and that this purpose, compassion for others, is what should drive him in his career. "Mr. Lewis, I see what I do as a gift, a blessing given to me by the Heavenly Father. The gift of this knowledge is one that I share with my patients so that they may improve their current situation, ease their pain, and heal their bodies whether they can pay me or not."

"Oh yes sir. Michaela told me about some of the places you visit when you aren't in the clinic, the orphanage and the docks. I think it's only decent for a physician to help where it's necessary."

"I also believe that refusal to teach what I've learned over the years would be in essence turning my back on the gift given to me." He paused, trying to gage a reaction from David's face before adding. "I assume you would like to begin while you are finishing your last hear at the Academy?"

* * *

Michaela was like an addict. Yes, that seemed like an accurate description indeed. Often times she had read in a book or had her father tell her of a person who had an addiction. Even though it was a substance that was bad for them, causing multiple medical problems, they continued to return to it. It was like they were unable to stop themselves. This is what Michaela thought of as she climbed the steps to her sister's room with a stack of magazines. She was like an addict.

Knocking briefly on the door, she had learned in the two months since Marjorie had been home not to wait for a reply, just enter. Marjorie, for once, was not sitting in front of the window but stretched across the lounging couch, working in her arithmetic book.

Michaela went in and hopped on the edge of the bed, sprawling the magazines and papers out around her.

"What do you think of pink amaryllis?"

"Excuse me?"

"Pink amaryllis? Do you know what they look like or do you need to see a picture?" Michaela had yet to look up from all of her papers as she continued to shuffle but stopped long enough to add, "They will be tied with powder blue ribbons."

"Oh is this about the dance?" Marjorie's voice was flat. She couldn't possibly be less excited.

"Yes this is about the dance."

"Then why are you bothering me about it?"

"Because it is _your_ dance! Don't you want to have a say? I'd think you'd like the attention of it all." Michaela couldn't help but roll her eyes in her sister's direction.

"Yea maybe I would if this was something I wanted to do, but no. I'm being forced into it. Don't you see? It's a ritualistic ceremony deeming that it is now proper for me to marry. They see me nothing more as a little woman whose job will be to cook and clean and have children!"

"Marjorie, I hardly think that they're putting that much thought into it. This is just something that's done."

Marjorie's eyes narrowed. "Do you even know what a debutante ball is for?"

"Rebecca explained it to me." Michaela conceded quietly.

"Then tell me I'm wrong." She couldn't. Marjorie was right to some extent that's what initially bothered Michaela about the fact as well, but when Rebecca had explained it to her, she made it sound so much simpler. A one-night commitment, that's all it was.

"This is hardly a marriage ceremony. You go, enjoy the attention and move on. No one is forcing you to into anything life altering here."

"But they are forcing me and that is inexcusable." Marjorie paused, hoping that her words would be understood, but Michaela gave no nod of understanding. "Good knight! It's like they've brain washed you."

"I beg your pardon!" Michaela jumped off the bed, ready to challenge the truth behind what her sister was suggesting.

"Look at you! You do everything they do without even considering why. You want to be a doctor like Him. You help plan the party with Her. Tell me Michaela, can you think for yourself at all?"

"Of course I can think for myself, but I choose to act reasonably. Not everything is worth rebelling against, Marjorie! Something can actually be fun, and despite you, everyone around you is trying to make things at least manageable. They're thinking about your future here, giving you all options possible. It's not like Father wakes every morning wondering what he's going to do to make you miserable today." By now, the two girls were standing merely feet apart yelling each other as loud as humanly possible.

"And how would you feel precious little Michaela when they force you to go through with this? You'll spend your entire life trying to live up to everyone's expectations of what they think a proper Quinn girls should be." Michaela jarred at this. _What a proper Quinn girl should be?_ What does that mean? So far, in her short life, Michaela had never been pitted against the idea that society expected something specifically from her because of her family name. That much her father had given her. "If Mother were alive…"

Marjorie's words flashed back to the week before and the horrible things Michaela had heard her scream at her father. Her tempered flared and she refused to keep it under wraps anymore. "Don't you ever speak of her to me again! She would be ashamed of the way you're treating everyone."

Marjorie's brow furled and she lowered her voice into an angry sneer. "How do you know what she would or wouldn't do. You didn't even know her. I bet you don't even remember what she looked like or the way she smelled or the way her voice sounded when she sang lullabies at night!"

Michaela felt as though she had been slapped; tears burned her eyes. It was true; it was all true. She remembered nothing first hand of her mother. It all came to her through her father's stories and pictures, and the memories of Rebecca and Martha. She didn't know how to respond to her sister's accusations and Marjorie was left with a satisfied grin on her face, successfully hiding the regret of her words.

"And what is it that causes such a clamor up here?" Martha unknowingly walked into the standoff. She stared at the two girls, one with a devilish grin, the other standing stock-still. "Well? What's the trouble?"

Michaela wasn't sure if she could speak. She didn't want to concede the pain that she felt aching through her body although she knew that it was probably plainly written across her face. Staring at Marjorie, she simply shook her head. It wasn't worth it; her sister would never be worth the pain she could inflict. She turned abruptly and left the room inadvertently bumping into Martha on the way out.

* * *

_Michaela stood in a large operating theater. She wore a white apron and sleeve protectors, both were stained by blood but she didn't care. There was no time to care. She had to stop this bleeding and fast. _

"_That largest artery is bleeding the most. I need a tenaculum and thread." She muttered to the nurse. Then she raised her voice so that everyone could hear. "Use the sharpened tip of the tenaculum to draw out the bleeding vessel. Once it is in the open, suture of the vessel and the bleeding with stop… like… so."With a flick of her wrist she was done. Taking a step back to admire her handy work, she nodded for the nurse to close as the room erupted in applause. She felt a smile tighten her cheeks as she sifted through the theater searching for someone. Almost instantly, her eyes met her father and she felt the smile brighten. She nodded for the door, motioning for him to meet her before leaving. _

"_Beautiful surgery." Joseph greeted his daughter with a proud smile and a hug. "It was seamless it really was, and quick thinking on the bleeding. I'd say many young doctors have learned a valuable lesson from you today."_

"_Do you really think so?"_

"_I know so." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close as they began down the hallway. "I'm done with my patients for the day, but I believe Maria still has a few in the books for you."_

"_Yes, I need to check on a few people here first." She smiled at her father. This just felt so right, like it was meant to be. _

"_You'll be home in time for tonight?"_

_Michaela rolled her eyes. "You know this isn't my idea of how to spend my birthday."_

"_I know, but Rebecca wanted to give you party and invite everyone. Let her indulge herself it's not hurting anyone." _

_Michaela held her hands up in surrender. "I'm saying nothing. I will go and dance and enjoy myself, and then I'll come home and you and I can have a nice quiet lunch together tomorrow." Smiling girlishly, she leaned and gave her father a kiss on the cheek. "But first I need to finish with my patients."_

"_That's my girl." The pride in Joseph's voice was astounding. _

The open and shut of the front door jarred Michaela from her nap dashing all remains of her dreams away from her. She watched from her lounged position on the sofa as Harrison helped her father remove his coat and gloves and hang it on the rack. Joseph sat his bag on the side table before curiously stepping into the parlor where Michaela stared up at him.

He stopped for a moment, taking in the scene before him. She was lying on her back, propped up by a few pillows. Her hands rested on her stomach fidgeting with the folds of her dress.

"Good afternoon," he whispered, not wanted to disturb the serene atmosphere that still held the comfort of sleep. As he sat on the edge of the sofa, he reached out to tap Michaela on the end of her nose. Only then did he notice the ghostly traces of tears on her cheek. "What's this?" he asked, gesturing to the faint cheeks.

"Oh," Michaela batted at her face with her hands as she struggled to sit up a little. "It's nothing, just a really trying day."

Turning his head from her, Joseph stared off into space. How many more times must he come home to an upset child? He knew Michaela was trying not to be a bother to him, but he also knew that Marjorie's presence and subsequent difficulty had all but shattered the quiet world in which he and Michaela lived. Although trying for him, he could adjust, but Michaela was only a child she needed structure and a sanctuary. She shouldn't be expected to adjust to something so radically different and she shouldn't have to. Part of Joseph wanted to send Marjorie wherever she wanted for no other reason than to protect Michaela, but he had to remind himself that he had to take Marjorie's best interest into consideration as well. Sending her away would do nothing by means of helping her, and so it appeared that he was in a position where he had to sacrifice one child's happiness for the other's well being.

"Are you sure you don't want to tell me?"

Michaela bravely shook her head. "It's nothing, really." _I don't remember Mother._ She sniffed dryly.

"I'm sorry everything has been so rough."

"It really is ok." She smiled. "Tell me about your day. Did you see anyone special?"

"Mrs. Croft came in."

"_Again_?" Michaela reaction made Joseph laugh.

"Yes again, but I told her this time not to come back for at least another three weeks unless there was an actual illness. Michaela giggled. "It's good to see you smile. Oh and I had a meeting with a friend of yours today."

"Really?"

"David Lewis stopped by rather nervous I must say, wanting to know if I would allow him to become my apprentice."

"He did?"

Joseph eyed her. "I'm sure you knew about that as well."

"Well he did tell me he was going to see you, but he didn't say when. What did you tell him?"

"The he should expect to start in a few weeks." Suddenly Michaela shot up and wrapped her arms around him, surprising Joseph. He hadn't realized how important David's apprenticeship was to her.

"Oh I knew you'd help him."

"Well I'm glad I lived up to your expectations."

Michaela blushed at her outburst. "Well it's just that David's really nice, and he wants to be a good doctor. I can't think of anyone better to teach him than you."

Joseph returned the embrace, cupping her head to his chest. "Thank you." He whispered. Of all the people who had faith in him, it was Michaela that made his heart beat with delight. "I have to remind you though." He pulled her back so he could look her in the eye, "that even though David will be my apprentice for a while that that position does not belong to him. It's waiting for you. It will be yours when you want it."

Michaela tightened her hold on him and felt him kiss the top of her head. Of multitude emotions that she felt while talking to David and her father :happiness, pride, excitement, jealousy had never present. She'd simply not thought of it as though David was taking something that rightfully belonged to her. He had deserved it in his own right, but it was nice to know that David's position in no way replaced her. She would still be able to live her life according to her dreams. There would be no other expectations than that, no rules that dictated what a proper Quinn girl should be. She would become a doctor one of these days and Joseph was going to walk each step with her, and one day her dream from this afternoon would be a reality.

* * *

_I hope you enjoyed it guys! Let me know what you think._


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

_My Dear Sister,_

_I'm glad to hear all is well with you and that Walter is still enjoying his congregation in Gettysburg. I hope that the winter will not be as bad for you as it has been the years past and perhaps Thomas and I will have the chance to bring the boys for a Thanksgiving visit. _

_Things have not changed much since the last time I have written to you, Claudette. The days of Marjorie's hostility have stretched into weeks and even months. It seems that as we draw closer to the date of the ball she becomes less and less responsive to anyone. I fear her refusal to cooperate with enough décor to pass the evening without incidence. Her behavior is not without its consequence, though. Father sleeps little and works hard despite the extra help he has had with his new apprentice. He's doing his best to keep everything together and is succeeding with injury to his health, however each time I ask about him he merely reflects the conversation to Michaela. He is concerned about her and the sudden shift her world has taken. It seems often times he's come home to find her crying or upset. If she is at home, she's alone and it is with conscious effort that we see that she spends her afternoons at the Hathwell home and many of her nights with Thomas and me. As much as I don't want to admit it, I am glad to see the debutante ball come crawling into view; we're able to count the time in weeks and days now. It will be time, then for Marjorie to return to Hartford and then, perhaps some semblance of happiness may return to our family. _

_I hope you continue to do well. I look forward to hearing from you soon. _

_Your Loving sister,_

_Rebecca._

* * *

Joseph unbuckled his suitcase and opened it wide on the bed before stopping to unbutton his shirtsleeves and roll them to his elbow. In all reality, this should be a task for Harrison, but he had finished his work early today and was looking for something to keep him busy. Beside, Harrison never packed him for _this_ trip anyway.

Joseph paused, unsure of where to start and unsteady at his apprehension. Running his hand through his beard his eye wandered outside. The drab grey November world was eerily still. The wind did not blow and the tree did not move. In fact, there seemed to be no life at all. It was too ironic. Resting his hands on each end of the windowsill, he leaned his full weight forward and pressed his forehead against the chilly glass, eyes scanning the world outside as he rode out the most recent lump in his throat.

Feeling the air change with another, equally subdued presence, Joseph hastily fought to pull himself together as he lifted himself from his position. He took his watch out of this pocket, flicked the face open, and regarded the time. _Six fifteen, _dinner will be served in forty-five minutes. He needed to be finished before then. Absentmindedly he ran his thumb across the clear facing, smudging the glass. _We can't have that_. He pulled a kerchief from his trouser pocked and ran it over the smooth watch facing, taking the time to enjoy the methodical motion, and having something that he could control and even fix.

Only then, after the watch was crisp and clear and he had unattached the chain from its button did he turn toward the doorway where he knew the somber girl still stood. Joseph looked up to see Michaela standing in the doorway, hands clasped before her, eyes watching him intently. There were no words exchanged between them, only a solitary look before Joseph turned his attention to the little vanity sitting the corner of the room and then to his empty bag.

Michaela instantly digested the meaning of each look and moved hastily into the room, into her father's room. In her childhood, it had been such a wonderful place, a big mysterious room that seemed to banish of traces of the ghosts and goblins that seemed to plague her dreams. She wasn't sure, how a place itself could hold such power over the world; it could have been the soft glow of the bedside lamp that the doctor kept lit almost constantly. The yellow pool contrasted sharply with the mauve walls and heavy oak furniture, warmly illuminating only a small portion of the room while leaving all else in a faded gold, or the plush softness of the bed which Michaela thought always too big for one person and therefore made it perfect for early morning journeys from one room to another. She never did have trouble sleeping in that bed.

As Michaela pulled the stool out from the vanity, she gazed across the tabletop. Once filled with boxes of jewelry, perfume, and colorings, Elizabeth's vanity now sat relatively empty, her possessions haven been given, thoughtfully by Joseph, to each of her daughters. However, some things still remained. Her dresser set; a brush, mirror, comb, and powder box, still sat at the heart of the vanity, the keepsakes that Joseph had reserved for Michaela once she was older. Around the mementoes sat a series of pictures, all of Elizabeth. There was the wedding photograph, Elizabeth with a baby Rebecca, one with her and all five of her daughters including a baby Michaela who was still in arms, and a family portrait taken the year before her death. Michaela studied the photographs, examining the face as it aged through the years and trying to conjure any independent memories of it. She couldn't.

Turning her attention to the end of the table, she tapped her finger on the corner. Aside from the dresser set, the only thing Joseph refused to give away was the bottle of perfume he had bought Elizabeth on her last birthday. It had been a scent she had worn since she was sixteen, a tell tale aroma that announced her presence in any situation. It was, in fact, the signal mercifully bestowed upon the Quinn girls that their mother was nearby and all mischief must stop. The bottle sat on the corner of the dresser for nearly a year after her death. Michaela remembered that on nights after she had had a nightmare of her mother, her father who seemed to always be there would bring her into his room and sit with her at the vanity. He would take the nearly full perfume bottle and spread just a little on the inside of her wrist before placing her in the big bed behind them. She would lie for hours amidst the plush bedding sniffing her wrist, her mother, before finally drifting to sleep. By the time, she was six she would go and smell the perfume herself. It was on one of those occasions that after ample application the bottle slipped from her wet palm and spilt across the marble top before shattering on the floor. Michaela had been almost inconsolable by the time Joseph had found her, both afraid that he would be angry and distraught over the loss of the perfume. It was like losing her mother all over again.

Michaela replaced her finger with her nose and sniffed. She could still smell the faint traces of the scent, no longer quite so familiar to her as before.

_Was it really six years ago._ Michaela turned back to her father in time to see him pack the last of his suits and turn toward his toilette. It was almost a routine now. Every year, Joseph would pack his bags for a weekend. Every year, Michaela would sit here and watch him. Every year after dinner, Harrison would leave and take Michaela to Rebecca's house, and Joseph would leave the next morning. They both knew why he made the trip, why the trip occurred the same week every year, just as they both knew that he was going to Virginia, but they never spoke of it. Michaela, just as always, was anxious about Joseph leaving her.

"I'll be gone this weekend and then next weekend is Marjorie's dance, and then perhaps she'll liven up a bit. It'll only be one more month before the next semester will start in Hartford and she'll be gone." It was Joseph's attempt to ease a concerned Michaela: to point out all of the hopeful things that would soon occur instead of the bad. All he received was a rather weak smile from Michaela. He quieted, his eyes falling back to his task. Nothing much more really needed to be said, and he knew better than to try.

He had finished his packing, added his toiletries to the top, and began to shut the case when Michaela spoke up from her chair. "Wait!" She crawled onto the bed and then across to where the suitcase was laying. She pulled an envelope out of her skirt pocket and laid it on top of his dress. It was inscribed with her still shaky script, _Father_. Sitting back on her haunches, she smiled at him. "It's for in case you get homesick."

"Oh Mike," He sighed kneeling by the bed and taking her head between his hands. "You know I don't like to leave you," She nodded, "and that I'll be back soon," another nod, "and that I love you very, very much." Again, she nodded, but this time with a broad smile.

"I love you too." She leaned in to kiss him, one kiss for each cheek. "Let's have dinner then."

* * *

Despite the fact that dinner was her idea, Michaela desperately wanted to make time stand still. She wasn't ready to leave, she wasn't ready to say goodbye, but she didn't have much of a choice.

The carriage ride to Rebecca's house was quiet. Marjorie still hadn't quite managed speaking terms, but Michaela didn't mind. She didn't feel like talking anyway. Instead, she sat hugged to the side of the carriage, watching as the bleak world past by her in a blur.

She was the first out of the carriage at the Blackstone house and therefore the first up the steps to be greeted by Peter.

"Hello, Miss Michaela."

Michaela feigned a smile. "Hi Peter."

"Auntie, auntie!" The boys seemed to come from nowhere, running straight to Michaela and wrapping arms around her waist. Michaela became vaguely aware of Marjorie's presence behind her.

"Boys, let Michaela breath." Rebecca warned coming down the stairs before them.

Thomas appeared from the library. "Listen to your mother. Why don't you see where Buster went?" At the mention of the new puppy, both boys were squealing and running toward the back of the house.

"Hello girls." Rebecca descended the rest of the way and wrapped one arm around Michaela pulling her close. The little girl closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of her sister's cotton dress against her skin.

Marjorie audibly sighed. "I'm sorry he shoved us off on you."

"It isn't like that at all." Thomas carefully took control over Marjorie's attitude. He placed a hand on the older girl's hand, smiling at her gently. "We enjoy having you two." He reached out to tap Michaela on the chin as she smiled at him from Rebecca's embrace. She looked tired. "Why don't you let Rebecca show you to your rooms and you can get settled." He looked up to speak directly to his wife. "I'll go find the boys."

About halfway up the stairs Michaela was hit with an awful thought. Rebecca only had one guestroom. That meant that someone was going to have to share a room this weekend, and that someone was probably going to be her and Marjorie. It took everything in Michaela's body to keep herself from groaning. The thought of sharing a room with Marjorie day and night made her want to cringe, talk about sleeping with one eye open. However before they even made it to the guestroom doorway Rebecca stopped and turned to Marjorie.

"Randy got so excited when he found out that we were coming that he offered to let you have his bedroom. He was thrilled at the opportunity to get the chance to sleep in Tommy's room." She opened the door and allowed Marjorie to go inside before turning to Michaela. "I thought you may like to have your room all to yourself." She whispered.

"Thank you so much." Michaela answered once they made it inside her safe haven. It was like her second bedroom, the next best place to be if she couldn't be home. Everything was so familiar to her, each pillow, each figurine, even down to the little doll that sat upright on the bed. "I was worried for a moment."

"I know I could see it in your eyes." Rebecca smiled. "Will… we see you later tonight or will you turn in early?"

"Um…" Michaela's eyes went to her valise, already sitting in the corner of the room. It contained more books than clothes. "I think I'll stay in here a bit and read. I'll come down to say goodnight, though."

Rebecca smiled. "Enjoy your time." Leaving the room, she shut the door softly behind her.

* * *

That the next day, Michaela was curled into a wingback chair in the drawing room. She was enjoying yet another book. In fact, it was the third book she had started since she had gotten to Rebecca's the day before. The truth was that was all she really had to do. The boys had entertained themselves today. Thomas had some work down at the office, and Rebecca had done her own chores, chores that Michaela couldn't muster up the exuberance to help with, and Marjorie had stayed locked in her room all day, and so Michaela read. First, she read in the morning room window, then outside. She moved inside after lunch and curled into the arm where she sat now. She hadn't moved in nearly three hours.

The truth was, though that she wasn't reading the entire time. She would read a few pages, and then get lost in thought. She relived different moments of the past few days, trying to rationalize it all in her mind. What was it she was feeling? Why was she so much more despondent this year during her father's trip than the years before? Usually, she would be up and moving around. She would have played the piano at least this morning and offered to help Rebecca. She might have played with her nephews and the puppy this morning, but she didn't. All she really wanted to do was sit and read and perhaps (she thought, stretching her legs in front of her) take a nap.

The change in disposition did not go unnoticed by Rebecca. Having watched her youngest sister closely the past few months, she was getting used to keening in on everything that was different about Michaela. She was worried about her; yes, her fire and spark over the weeks had faded, but it hadn't been replaced by the genteel qualities that Rebecca had assumed. This was something deeper than the well-mannered teachings Claudette seemed so fixated to thrust upon her. This was more along the lines of melancholia.

Peeking her head around the doorjamb, Rebecca watched her sister, who was sitting with her back to her. She seemed comfortable, content even, but still Rebecca was concerned. Gingerly she stepped into the room and sat down on the sofa that ran perpendicular to Michaela's chair.

"You've been reading all afternoon." Rebecca started quietly; she wasn't quite sure how to broach such a situation.

Michaela instantly blushed and shut her book. "Oh, I'm afraid I haven't been very good company, have I?"

"Oh heavens, Michaela, you're not company. You've been here so much it's nearly your own home. If you want to read all day, go ahead and do it. I just want to make sure that you're ok." Rebecca studied the way Michaela lowered her eyes back to the cover of her book. "Well? Are you ok?"

"I am." Her hand fumbled with an object in her lap. "I just really miss Father. I don't know why. Everything feels different this year."

"It's ok for things to feel differently and for you to miss him. You really haven't had the time to be with him for so long now. I'm sure it feels like he's been gone much longer than just a day." Rebecca moved to the footstool sitting in front of Michaela, running her hands down her sister's hair. "Now what's this?" She tugged the book from Michaela's lap to expose what her hands fiddled with underneath.

It was such a memorable piece of jewelry, Elizabeth Quinn's vulcanite necklace. Rebecca remembered it well. She had known that Joseph had given it to Michaela; he had spoken to her before he made the decision, but she hadn't seen it for quite a while.

"Oh I remember this." Rebecca whispered, pulling the ribbon from Michaela's hands and lifting it over her sister's head. She adjusted the charm as it hung down Michaela's chest.

"She must have been wonderful." Michaela ventured to speak. Rebecca looked up unsure of what she meant. "Mother, she must have been wonderful," and then with a sad shake of her head she admitted, "I don't remember her. I don't remember anything about her."

"Oh honey." Rebecca wasted no time in pulling Michaela into her arms. She could hear her sister sniffle next to her and was surprised to find not a single tear when they parted. Trying to decide what to do next, Rebecca stared at the necklace before the answer came to her. She tapped on the hard black stone with her nail. "Do you know the story of this necklace?"

Michaela, wide-eyed, shook her head.

"Father gave this necklace to Mother on their wedding night. "Just a simple little gift," he told her. Do you see the back?" Rebecca flipped the charm over in her hand and held it out to Michaela who fingered the engraving. _Just a simple little gift_, it said. Michaela smiled. Straight and to the point, not to mention humble, just like her father. "It was in the velvet case when he gave it to her and at first he wouldn't let her touch it. He pulled it from the velvet case and hooked it around her neck, of course it was on a shorter ribbon then." Rebecca illustrated her words with the motions that accompanied them. Wrapping her arms around Michaela's neck and pulling the ribbon up so that it sat higher on her chest, just above the neckline of her dress. Again, she fixed the engraving so that it lay straight. "And he told her, 'Always remember that no matter where you go or what you do there will always be someone out there that loves you with his entire being.'"

Michaela was completely transfixed. Chills ran through her body as Rebecca's story came to a close. Somehow something as simple as story became so much more. It brought the pieces of stone and ribbon at her throat into existence. It gave them breath and life. Michaela pressed the jewel into her chest with both hands, wondering if it had its own pulse and if she could feel it against her own skin. She could, if she closed her eyes and imagined, really truly imagined it was like having her mother sitting with her talking to her, telling her stories, perhaps even forgiving Michaela for forgetting her in the first place.

* * *

_There's 28 for you. I hope you enjoyed it._


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

"Oh, Shenandoah, I long to see you,

Away, you rolling river…." Michaela's voice sang out as her fingers glided over the keys sending the crisp notes out to the air. Closing her eyes, she swayed back and forth on the piano bench, dancing with the music. Behind her, Rebecca and Thomas danced as well, swirling and swaying in the shadow of the flickering flames.

Rebecca's face shone with the exuberance of a young woman as she smiled up at her husband. Gingerly, Thomas lifted his arm across his chest, spinning Rebecca away from him before bringing her back to him. Tommy and Randy, rather subdued from their day of playing squealed with excitement, batting at their mother's skirt as it fanned away from her and crouching down, waited for the next time their mother swung around. Rebecca just smiled, enjoying having her husband as well as her children close. She enjoyed being able to do things she loved, feeling pampered with her husband's attention without neglecting her children's needs.

"You're getting good at moving with them underfoot." She whispered through a white toothed grin. Thomas merely smiled proudly before spinning her, this time more quickly from one end of the room to another. Rebecca laughed, a sound joined in with by her boys.

Marjorie, sitting by the window, by herself, rolled her eyes. Were they trying to prove something? _Oh, look at how happy we are despite the fact that you seem to be miserable Marjorie. So sorry about that, it is rather unfortunate._ Marjorie's breath momentarily stole away from her as she huffed.

If she closed her eyes, perhaps she could be somewhere else. She could hear Sarah's laughter and feel Benjamin's hand as he guided her to the dance floor. She tapped out a little rhythm with the tip of her shoe. She could dance like Rebecca, and laugh with that hearty joy. It was doable, Marjorie knew because she had done it. She could be happy. Although, right now she's having a difficult time remembering what it was like.

As the song came to a close Michaela started the final chord, rolling it up the keyboard ever so slowly before allowing it all to fade away.

"Yippee!" Randy exclaimed clapping his hands together and jumping up and down. "Dat was purdy!" Randy dished out the compliment with enough time before Tommy took him out head first, knocking him under the sofa. After a while, the boys lay still, out of breath. Michaela blushed at the compliment and hastily made to move the music from the stand, as if trying to erase the evidence of her talent.

With a glance between each other, Rebecca and Thomas split ways both heading toward the piano.

"May I have this dance?" Thomas knelt next to the bench where Michaela sat and offered his hand. He looked like a knight in shining armor and immediately Michaela recoiled into her shell.

"Oh no that's alright."

"Nonsense." Rebecca sounded from her left, sitting on the bench and scooting over until Michaela had no room left. Thomas took her hand and pulled her to her feet.

"It will be fun… I promise."

"Oh… all right." Michaela glanced back at her sister before moving to the center of the floor.

"What should we dance; a round, a reel, a waltz?"

"Ummm…." Rebecca shuffled through music until she found one suitable. "Let's do a reel."

"Sounds good to me. Are you ready?" Thomas wiggled an eyebrow and Michaela making her giggle. "No ma'am, no smiles in a reel. This is serious business. What? I'm serious. There should be no laughter in the reel. No… no… no." Thomas laughed as he tickled her, making her squirm away from him as she laughed.

"Are you two ready?" Rebecca turned from her seat and eyed the two with mock irritation.

"Ready." Thomas replied, face dropping all hints of humor and becoming serious, but he couldn't fool Michaela. His eyes flashed with excitement, making it more difficult for Michaela to calm herself.

"Ready." Michaela echoed, licking her lips in attempt to banish her smile. She placed her hand in Thomas' and reached her arms up is shoulder, waiting to hear the first note.

As soon as the first cord struck, Michaela was swept off her feet quite literally as Thomas swept her into his arms and twirled around before setting her down on the other side of him. Shocked by the unexpected movement, Michaela screamed with surprise before laughing. With a slight pause to regain their composure, Thomas led them on a continuous bouncing path up and down the room. There was just movement, no consideration for the beat of the melody that Rebecca played as they hurdled over the floor. At one point, they got so off beat that their bouncing didn't even match one another. Thomas moved on the beat while Michaela was left to catch up on the offbeat, but it didn't really matter, she couldn't do much more than laugh at the absurdity of it all and Thomas was left nearly dragging her down the pathway he set for them. It was entirely void of all the seriousness Thomas had so carefully stressed. By the end of the song, Thomas had resorted to twirling his sister in law round and round until the final note hit.

Michaela could barely contain her amusement. Collapsing onto the floor she struggled to catch her breath amidst the laughter as Thomas fell to the sofa. Even the boys, squirmed from where they had watched the merry scene beneath the sofa to tackle their father.

"That was fun!" Tommy cried.

"Oh you liked that, did you?"

"Do us."

"Maybe tomorrow. I'm tired now." Thomas looked over to Michaela who blushed deeply.

"I imagine you are. What on earth was that?" Rebecca laughed from her seat.

"That, my darling, was improvisation."

"Oh is that what it's called? It looked like something I saw at our wedding reception."

"You jest my dear!" Thomas feigned offence.

Marjorie couldn't take it much more. Such childishness. Adults were always commanding children to act properly and responsible and then they went and galloped about the room. She didn't see the humor in it at all, and if the rest of the night was suppose to be like this she wasn't sure she wanted to stay and watch. With a grand harrumph, she stood from her chair and flounced from the room, turning all eyes in her direction.

Like a straight pin to a balloon, the laughter seeped from the air and Michaela was left looking at her sister and brother in law before sighing.

"I suppose it's getting late. I think it may be bed time for me." Michaela whispered with a sad smile, pulling herself to her feet. She moved to hug her sister goodnight before turning to her brother in law. Bending over to kiss him on the cheek, she smiled at him, the humor from earlier still dancing in her girlish features, proof that he and Rebecca had helped her forget her troubles if only for a moment or two. "Thank you for my dance," she whispered before turning for the stairs.

* * *

"Ho o o o." Randy skipped around Michaela, bobbing his hand against his mouth to interrupt the constant tone emitting from his lips. Michaela watched him as he danced into her line of view before disappearing again.

"Arg matey!" Tommy suddenly appeared in front of Michaela waving the end of a broom handle in her face. "You chose to disobey me, the mighty Blackbeard, and now ye must walk the plank!" Michaela flinched as the broom thrust forward and knocked her in the forehead.

"Tommy, have you ever heard about the real Blackbeard." Perhaps she could salvage the morning after all. She watched as her nephew paused and shook his head before turning his sword on an invisible intruder. "He was the captain of a ship called the _Queen Anne's Revenge_." Tommy didn't even look up from his task. Michaela decided to try again. "Everyone was terrified of him, but they didn't really need to be because Blackbeard never actually killed anyone." Despite the fascination in Michaela's voice, neither Tommy nor Randy stopped to listen to her. In fact, Tommy promptly dropped his 'sword' and decided hand-to-hand combat was the best way to go. Michaela frowned. Well, she had tried at least.

The boys had started early in the morning with their begs for Michaela to play with them. In fact, they started before she was even awake, choosing that they would wake her instead. With a jump on the bed that sat Michaela upright. "What is going on?"

"Play with us, Aunt 'Kayla!" Tommy jumped up and down. Randy was much more subtle, flopping over into her lap and looking up at her. "Please." He whimpered at her. Not being able to see anything better to do, Michaela complied. Two hours later, she found herself tied to a tree.

Michaela couldn't move anymore now than she could five minutes ago. She stared down at the ropes that circled around her body, plastering her to the rough bark behind her. Sighing, she stretched her legs out in front of her, bouncing her knees slightly. Obediently she sat in place, as her nephew played around her.

"Hey… don't swing that." Michaela shouted at Tommy who had gone back to his makeshift weapon. Glancing at her over his shoulder, he defiantly swung the stick, slamming it into the side of the fence. "Thomas Blackstone!" Michaela tried to sound authoritative as she shouted her nephew's name. Again, he swung the weapon and again until a shrilled cry rang out. Randy, having been oblivious to all that was around him, wandered a little too close and had been hit across the top of the head.

Randy wasted no time alarming everyone to his pain.

"Oh, oh, oh, hold still." Michaela struggled against her ropes. She pushed and pulled until she managed enough slack to crawl from her restraints. "It's ok. It's ok." She cooed in the boy's ear, snaking arms around him and lifting the heavy body to her chest. "Let's see. I know it hurts, I know." She pressed her hand over the sore, welting spot. "It'll stop soon."

"Momma!" Tommy's voice yelled as the boy shot himself across the yard and burying himself in his mother's skirts. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He wept repeatedly.

"Oh whatever is the matter?" Rebecca knelt to Michaela and eagerly shifted her young son into her arms. Randy went willingly.

"We just bumped our head." Michaela whispered ruffling the boy's hair. He had quietened considerably now, but now just chose to be comforted in his mother's arms.

"Oh well if that was the case then I must say that you were in the best possible hands." Rebecca clucked, bending the boy back in order to wipe at his tears. Randy looked at her through curious eyes.

"Why Momma?"

"Auntie Michaela is going to be a doctor one day." Randy turned in order to see his aunt. He looked up at Michaela through big eyes.

"Nu huh." Tommy exclaimed, glancing between the two girls.

"It's true, she is." Rebecca shot a smile to her sister who was staring at her dress, smiling brightly.

"She can't be a doctor."

"Why not?"

"Because she's girl. Girls aren't doctors."

Rebecca turned blood red, embarrassed and ashamed at her son's reaction. Never had Tommy been exposed to the rigid structure of gender convention. He had never heard his father speak degradingly of a woman, and he had never heard his mother mention society's constraints on women. Yet, the boy still managed to create an understanding of the way the world outside ran, but it wasn't a proper understanding. It wasn't a frown of injustice. It was an admittance of agreement, regardless of his full understanding of what he was agreeing to. How had that happened?

"No." Rebecca stated harshly. This was a lesson that must be learned now. "Girls can be anything that little boys can be. Sometimes they just have to work harder to get there." The last was admitted with consideration to Michaela whose head had jerked up at the sound of her nephew's words. Slowly the furrowed brow dissipated and was replaced with a relieved grin.

"You wait and see Tommy. There'll be a woman doctor one of these days. Even if I have to be the first one."

* * *

The door swung open to the Mount Vernon Street home and Marjorie went straight in and headed for the stairs.

"Hello to you too, Miss Marjorie I hope you had a good weekend." Martha called under her breath.

"It was all right." Marjorie impressed her with an actual reply on her way up the stairs. Martha's eyes went wide.

"Wow, seems like Rebecca actually did some good for the child." She turned to Joseph who was just coming through the doorway. Her face immediately softened when she saw him. "Oh the poor darling."

Michaela was fast asleep in her father's arms, her head lying on his shoulder as he cradled her body against him like a baby. His coat was wrapped around her body for extra warmth but was slowly falling from around her shoulders. Martha stepped in to correct the fabric, pulling it tightly across the little girl's shoulders.

"Rebecca said she spent all morning with the boys. She didn't do anything all day but chase them around. She had sat down to read a book and wait up after the children went to sleep but didn't last ten minutes." Joseph whispered to her, a smile written across his face. It was clear that after an emotionally trying trip he was glad to be home, to have his little girl in his arms once more, and to know that she was safe.

Martha ran her hand across the little girl's forehead. "You go ahead and take her upstairs. Harrison and I will care for the bags."

In quite obedience, Joseph turned to the upstairs. Once in her room, he laid her across her bed and bent to light a lamp. Michaela never even rolled over. The one thing that always amazed Joseph when his girls were little was the ability for children to sleep through anything, including having someone undress them.

Bending over Michaela, Joseph managed to untie and unbutton all of the fastenings that kept her dress in place, leaving her in her knee length chemise and drawers. He pulled the covers over her little body, making sure that all was tucked in a warm embrace. Only then did then Michaela roll over and open her eyes.

"Father." She grinned, blinking in the lamplight.

"Hello my Mike."

"Your home."

"I am, and you are too." Michaela rubbed at her eyes, yawning.

"How was your trip?" She was struggling to stay awake. Joseph just chuckled and leaned in to kiss his daughter on the cheek.

"I'll tell you all about it in the morning, but now it's time to go to sleep."

Michaela yawned again, wrapping her arms around her pillow and pulling it to her chest. "I'll see you in the morning, Father," and she drifted back to sleep.

* * *

_I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Guess what! We only have 17 left in part one!! Whoohoo!_


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

It was unlike anything Michaela had ever experienced before. From the very first moment her eyes had opened this morning, everything seemed to be moving at breakneck speed, stopping for nothing. It had been one week since Joseph had returned from his trip, and that one week had been consumed with the final plans for the debutante ball. Rebecca had to double check flowers, food, and decorations to make sure that all was here on time. Marjorie's dress arrived on Wednesday and Michaela helped Rebecca unpack everything that evening. The fashion plate was of no comparison to the actual garment. It was simply more beautiful in person than anything Michaela could have ever imagined, and for the first time she felt a tinge of jealousy for her sister. It was shocking really, for Michaela to think that she may be jealous of her sister. It wasn't about the attention or the dance itself, but for the excitement of the entire affair. The dress was so lovely and Michaela lay awake in bed that night wondering if she would ever have the chance to have such a beautiful garment. Michaela wasn't sure why she was so enthralled in the dress; she had never enjoyed the overly fancy dresses, they were too hard to run in. The skirt jumbled around your knees and always caused the most painful falls.

In Michaela's opinion, the most wonderful thing about time is that it never stops, it can't, and so one can't do anything but brace himself for the future and remember that in a few hours, all will be over and something else was on its way. It was no different with the ball; despite how Rebecca wished she had more time to perfect each of her plans, time continued, and when everyone woke early Saturday morning, they knew that they were reaching the final countdown.

Michaela had been woken by Martha, who showed up at her door promptly at eight o'clock with breakfast tray in hand. "We haven't much time today to wait for you to decide when it's time to get up. Have your breakfast when you please and take your time this morning. There's plenty to do, so make sure you don't stay under foot." She dropped the tray off on the table and as quickly as she had entered, she left the room.

Michaela stretched lazily, burying her face into her pillow. She groaned, not wanting to wake up just yet. She could just go back to sleep; Martha had said she could, but then again if she did her eggs would get cold. Nothing was worse than cold eggs. Besides, if she got up now and got dressed she would be able to see all of the excitement that she knew was clicking and clanking downstairs. Maybe she would even be able to help. Pulling herself from the bed, Michaela turned toward the tray, already smelling the crisp bacon before she even lifted the lid on her plate.

* * *

Somehow, the house had come to life. As Michaela left the safety of her own little room, she realized that the house was buzzing with life that she didn't even know was there. Transversing the stairs was quite a feat as a servant (Michaela knew the woman as Elisa; she often worked at the Quinn house when there was a large gathering) was wrapping the powder blue ribbon down the banister. At the bottom of the stairs sat one of the large pink amaryllis arrangements.

Michaela peeked her head into the drawing room where the petition between it and the parlor had been pushed back. Some men were beginning to move the furniture to the edges of the room while others hung flowers and fabric across the molding that stretched along the ceiling. Chairs were being cluttered in one corner for the string quarter and the piano was being tuned. Michaela watched as one of the butlers lowered a chandelier from the ceiling, pulling it toward him, low enough for him to light each arm before sending the massive structure of crystal and bronze floating back to its original home.

"Excuse me Miss." A woman nudged Michaela to the side as she entered the room with a large flower arrangement and someone followed close behind with a wooden pedestal.

Feeling more and more in the way, Michaela turned from the busy room and the fluttering people and turned toward the library and then Joseph's office. Finally, she came across Rebecca, looking a little less than haggard.

"Oh Michaela you woke up. Good morning." Rebecca looked up from the desk and smiled before immediately going back to her talk.

"It's so busy."

"And it should be a lot busier. We're behind schedule. No, no!" Rebecca jumped from her seat and headed for the door. "Those flowers need to be in the dining room. It's the centerpiece for the table." The young woman who she had spoken to blushed and turned around and headed back toward the dining room. Rebecca sighed and turned back toward Michaela. "I'm sorry. This is all I can handle." Michaela smiled at her sister. She had never seen Rebecca quite like this before.

"Where's Father, I haven't seen him this morning."

"He went to the office until at least three."

"It's a right good thing he did too. We don't need him underfoot." Martha breezed into the room, carrying table linens. "Which of these do you prefer for the table?" As Rebecca began to sift through the different cloths, Michaela suddenly felt extremely unnecessary.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Rebecca looked up from her task and suddenly her eyes widened, as if realizing for the first time exactly what it was that Michaela was standing there for.

"Oh dear," She moved around the desk to give her sister a hug. "Things are just so busy, but I can't think of anything you can do for me right now. Why don't you go outside and play for a bit, and I'll have Martha call you when Miriam arrives?"

Although disappointed at not getting to be a part of the hustle of the house, Michaela did her best to understand. The last thing she wanted was to be in the way and have everyone rolling his or her eyes at the little girl who did nothing to help, and so begrudgingly, Michaela heeded Rebecca's advice and went outside to swing.

* * *

Miriam arrived on schedule a little before lunch and the two girls moved inside for the rest of the day.

"Its light pink and has lace around the neck. I can't wait to wear it tonight." Miriam said, taking a bite of her sandwich and staring at the new dress that hung on the edge of Michaela's armoire door.

"Mine's dark blue." Michaela still couldn't believe it. Until now, she hadn't been allowed to attend the balls and parties, what few there were that occurred in the Quinn home but tonight the rules changed. Tonight, Joseph had not only granted his daughter the permission to attend, but offered to have Miriam come over as well. The girls could hardly contain their excitement of getting to be a part of such an event.

Miriam blushed over her sandwich. "Do you think you'll have anyone ask you to dance tonight?" She asked sheepishly causing her blush to catch over to Michaela.

"I don't know. I really don't know what to expect. Father's taken me dancing before, but then again, he's my father and that seems like it would be far different than having a young man asking you."

"I hope we each get at least one dance."

"And then we can spend the rest of the evening talking about everybody else!"

"Of course!" They dispelled into a fit of giggles.

After lunch, the girls played for a little while and practiced their dancing skills. Eventually though, they tired and found themselves stretched across Michaela's bed. It would be a long night, but for now, they needed to get just a little rest.

* * *

Marjorie felt like a prisoner from the very first moment that she woke up. She could hear the voices downstairs, Rebecca moving around giving orders. She could hear hammering and the swish of skirts. It was as if they were all laughing at her, making everything perfect despite her wants.

To make things worse, Marjorie had gotten a letter from Sarah this morning talking about how school was. Christopher had been by to visit on most occasions and Benjamin asked about her every time he saw Sarah. Apparently, Christopher had told Sarah all the things Benjamin had planned to do once it was official that Marjorie could go courting. Despite her desire to do everything against what Joseph wanted, Marjorie had to admit that that was the one good thing that could come from this ball. She could officially court Benjamin. (She couldn't wait to see the look on Kathleen's face when it became official). She had thought of it over and over, planning what she would say and how Kathleen would find out. She imagined coming home one night after an evening out with Benjamin and having Kathleen walk in on them in the parlor.

"Oh I'm sorry Kathleen; we didn't see you over there." Marjorie would coo from around Benjamin. She knew the twinkle and smile that Benjamin would shoot across the room, and could see the precise shade of green that Kathleen would turn. But to get to that, she had to survive the ball tonight, and while she had done everything possible to prove the point that she wanted no part in what her father and Rebecca were asking of her, she had no plans to purposefully sabotage the evening. Besides, many young men were going to be at the party tonight, and she by no means wanted anything but the most pleasurable attention from them.

"What are you thinking about?" Michaela's voice startled Marjorie from her reverie.

"What are you doing in here? Aren't you supposed to be entertaining your little friend?"

"Miriam is still napping and I was wondering how you were today."

Marjorie's face fell. "I feel like a prisoner that's about to go to the guillotine."

"Have you seen your dress yet? It's lovely. You're going to look beautiful." Marjorie blushed, unable to ignore the compliment and the way it made her feel inside.

"Thank you." She mumbled under her breath and Michaela smiled slightly.

"You're very welcome."

Marjorie turned on her seat and stared longingly out the door. She hadn't been out of her room all day. "Have you seen the downstairs?" It appeared that now she was beginning to get a little nervous. _Well, it's about time._

"Everything's perfect. Rebecca has been stressing all day and it defiantly shows. Tonight will be perfect."

The clock on the mantle struck five o'clock.

As if cued by the chiming bells, Rebecca entered through the room, dress, and underpinnings in tow. Martha wasn't far behind her. She laid the dress across the bed and backed away to gaze from afar.

Rebecca wasn't the only one looking at the dress, though. As soon as the garment had been laid out, Marjorie rose from her seat and moved for the bed. She showed no expression, no smile, no laughter. She said no words, but she did reach out and touch the little lace bodice, feeling the roughness press against her fingertips.

Rebecca, having watched Marjorie's expression closely now turned her gaze to Michaela with a congratulatory smile. They had made the right choice. Michaela just smiled and took several steps back, coming to land next to Martha. The two women watched as Rebecca hesitantly wrapped one arm around Marjorie.

"It's time to get dressed now. Are you ready?"

Marjorie took a visible breath as if to calm the nerves in her stomach. Looking up to her sister, she nodded slightly. "Yes, I am."

_It's short and sweet, but we're going to be having a ball soon!_


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

The enormity of Marjorie's coming out was unlike anything that had ever graced the Quinn household before, at least that's what Michaela thought. The affair had been pulled off with the elegance and perfection that rivaled that of Elizabeth's events, the last of which occurred the Valentine's Day before her death. Even then, Michaela was only four years old and remembered nothing of the celebration, and as a result had never been exposed to the grandeur of a ball in her own home. Yes, there had slowly but surely been the reintroduction of the Quinn's New Year's Eve party each year, but the annual tradition paled in comparison to the sophistication and exuberance of tonight.

Every chandelier in the house was lit in addition to numerous candelabras and it all added to the feeling that the entire house was glowing with golden rays. The strings played quietly in the back corner of the parlor softly supporting the hum of conversation that carried throughout the house as people arrived one by one.

Michaela stood peeking around the corner of the upstairs hallway, peering down into the foyer. Joseph and Rebecca stood in a receiving line near the front door, personally welcoming each guest, male, female, young, or old. It didn't matter. Everyone had the opportunity to meet the host and hostess for the evening.

"Oh Dr. Quinn your home is simply wonderful!" A bright-eyed girl curtseyed before Michaela's father.

"That's Betsy Suttler. She has been visiting every debutante ball after her own this past spring. Robert has seen her at them all. She says her flattery is positively dreadful." Miriam whispered in Michaela's ear. Between the two of them, they knew almost everyone that entered through the doors. There were the older brothers and sisters of their classmates and the ladies and gentlemen who moved in their parent's social circles.

"Oh, there's Mamma and Robert." Miriam pointed at the two newest arrivals. "Are we ready to go down yet?" Michaela wordlessly nodded, still trying to absorb everything around her. It was just so much.

Taking the stairs two at a time, they both inevitably came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, right next to Robert.

"So that's where you chipmunks have been." Robert, having finished conversing with Dr. Quinn turned to the two little girls with the casual smirk that Michaela despised so much.

"We've been here all day, Robert. Where have you been?"

"Getting ready for the big night." He tugged on his front vest a little, bowing out his chest. Miriam laughed, knowing her brother's humor, but somehow Michaela wasn't amused at all.

"The big night?"

"Well…" Robert blushed.

"Michaela." Joseph, having greeted the last of the guests stepped around Robert and nodded at his daughter. "Why don't you and your friend go on into the parlor? We'll be starting everything soon." He skirted around the party and moved toward the stairs. Michaela furled her brow.

"Starting?"

"Yes, silly." Robert jumped in, as he moved to usher the girls into the parlor. "They'll announce Marjorie. It's what makes everything official."

The room was filled with the soft music, providing the gentle sway to the dancers who skirted across the floor. Other guests were talking around the edges of the space, some sitting some standing. Michaela and Miriam, not having experience such an event fell in to following closely behind Robert, acting off his lead. He entered the room and walked around the edges, stationing them on the wall directly facing the entrance through which he knew Marjorie would be entering.

Michaela and Miriam silently watched everyone from their position. They heard the laughter and saw the smiles, and before long, the two of them were increasingly aware of the fact that all sounds slowly ceased to exist. The music stopped altogether as Rebecca appeared in the entryway.

There were very few times that Michaela stopped to see her family through the eyes of someone else. Like most people, she took for granted the people who played such a constant role in her life. She stopped seeing their faces with the unique and individual features and considered them as one unit. She rarely stopped to notice an arm movement or the tilt of a head or spread of a smile. However, seeing her sister appear around the corner somehow gave Michaela moment to pause.

Rebecca wasn't exquisitely beautiful put together. Her hair was a little mat in color and her nose a little too long and pointed at the tip. She was small boned, although tall and had large, square hands, hands that were comforting with caresses and hugs. Her eyes, a deep hazel, were brilliant in color though and therefore the most beautiful feature of her face. However, aside from her physical appearance, Michaela saw the person inside for the very first time. Her oldest sister, stood erect, shoulders back, was holding on them the weight of what belonged to the matriarch of a family, although that family was not hers to run. The wrinkles that tightened around her eyes spoke of the strain and stress of taking a role abandoned to her. There was never any force behind Rebecca's actions. The role she took in Michaela's life as well as Marjorie's was not asked of her but given freely by her. She understood the very important part that a mother played in a daughter's life and wanted her sisters to miss nothing of that experience if she could help it.

And so, Rebecca stood before the room of guests, a list she had agonized over, amidst the flowers and music that she had picked herself and announced the guest of honor for the evening. Michaela watched as Marjorie, looking exquisite in her white ensemble entered on their father's arm (and truth be told, her heart tightened a little. My, how would she have liked to have been with her father instead). Joseph, who balanced Marjorie's arm on top of his, escorted her around the room in motion to the sonata produced by the strings. The sound of the sighs and gasps could be heard murmuring throughout the room causing Marjorie to smile even brighter. Michaela had to give her credit. None of the tension that permeated the existence of the Quinn household the past few months seemed to be present at all. Instead, Marjorie looked nothing less that the very essence of a young lady.

As Joseph and Marjorie circled back around to them, Robert began to move from behind them, making his way toward the front. Marjorie's smile tightened as she saw him appear before her. Joseph's eyes, locked on Robert's as the younger man step forward and bowed stiffly. Taking Marjorie's hand from his arm, Joseph handed it to Robert and as the music struck as stronger cord the young pair spun into a dance, thus dissolving the rest of the guests into the same activity.

Michaela turned to Miriam, wide eyed. There was something just elegant about the entire thing- the escort around the room by Dr. Quinn, the hand off to the younger companion, and now the dance. It was absolutely delicate and it was rather obvious that Miriam thought the same thing.

Looking around, Miriam shrugged and turned back with a questioning look.

"What do we do now?"

Michaela stepped away from the wall and held out her hand in mock seriousness. "Shall we dance?"

"But we're not supposed to dance with each other, silly. We're supposed to dance with boys."

Dropping her arm, Michaela looked around. "I don't see any boys who want to dance. Besides, we have all night, remember? We can dance with them any time. So…" She raised her hand once more. "Shall we dance?"

Taking Michaela's hand Miriam spun toward the center of the room and the two girls, giggling with excitement and delight, began to dance.

* * *

"Such a beautiful young lady."

"Oh she is isn't she? The Doctor has done a good job with that one, but it's the younger one that's going to be the end of him."

"Did you hear about Michaela's little prank on Robert Hathwell last year?"

"No. What?"

"She filled his shoes with chocolate cake."

"No."

"Indeed she did. I hear she's all time doing things like that and the Doctor just looks right over it. I understand that he wants to pamper her, but that is simply uncalled for. Poor Elizabeth would be ashamed."

A large gathering of matrons sat about the dining room enjoying their punch and what gossip they had for the day. The personal affair of the Quinn residence was the favorite topic among most of them and what better place to discuss these things while having the opportunity to see the girls in person. In fact, it must be said that while the ladies had been rather impressed by Marjorie's elegance and charm Michaela hadn't quite managed the same.

Michaela sat on a windowsill in the parlor, swaying back and forth to the rhythm of the music as she watched the happily twirling couples in front of her. They all looked like they were having so much fun. Each young woman was paired with a young man, who bent over her and smiled. The couples whispered to one another taking the time to laugh heartily when they heard something particularly amusing. Some of the girls even blushed and Michaela could only imagine what was being said. Marjorie had dance with many partners of the evening, and still was Michaela was fairly certain. Although, she couldn't quite find her sister amidst the billowing skirts now. Even Miriam had been asked to dance a number of times by some of the younger boys, many of whom were friends of Roberts or boys who went the school across the street from her and Michaela. Yet, Michaela still managed to sit on the windowsill, heart thumping loudly each time someone seemed to be walking toward her. She hadn't danced all evening, and she wasn't sure why. Didn't she look as pretty as the other girls did? Wasn't her dress as nice? She could dance; she had done it on multiple occasions. Why had no one asked her to dance?

"Would you like to dance?" The whispered question reached Michaela before she even saw the speaker and her heart did a little flip. Maybe this night could be salvaged after all. She turned toward the speaker and, smiling broadly, moved to stand, lifting her hand up to him as she did so. However, once she saw the gentleman who asked her to dance her face fell.

"Thomas…" Michaela tried not to sound too disappointment at her brother in law's presence. After all, it wasn't his fault that she had desired to see someone before her who had no family connection to her and therefore wasn't obligated to ask her to dance. She smiled sweetly at him, her eyes skirting around his shoulders to find Rebecca in the background. She was standing against a wall talking to some older women, but balancing her attention between them and Michaela. Letting her eyes stray to Michaela's their gaze connected and Rebecca's face flushed slightly at being caught. Michaela turned her eyes back to Thomas. "It's ok. You don't have to dance with me."

"Come on Michaela it will be fun." His eyebrow raised and Michaela flashed back to the last time he had told her that.

"You don't have to take pity on me because I haven't anyone to dance with."

"Who said anything about pity? Don't you think you would be more interesting to dance with than any of the other stuffy old ladies or flighty young maidens here?" The last was said under his breath and with a sincerity that promised to Michaela that Thomas meant every word of it.

"I think Rebecca would rather a dance. Thank you and thank her for me as well." With a sad smile, she sent a rather defeated Thomas away just in time for Miriam to appear on her other side.

"Having a good time?" Miriam giggled, sitting next to Michaela on the windowsill. Michaela forced a smile.

"It is fun isn't it? I think Rebecca did a good job."

"Oh and all the dances are a lot of fun." Michaela nodded. It's not as if she could speak from experience. "Oh hello Doctor Quinn." Miriam's eyes shot up and over Michaela's shoulder.

"Hello girls. How has your evening been so far?"

Miriam seemed to jump with excitement. "Oh it's so lovely!"

"I'm glad, what about you Mike?" Joseph turned his attention to his youngest child and watched as she gathered herself. Despite the fact that his duties as host kept him sidetracked for most of the evening, he hadn't neglected to keep an eye on Michaela. In fact, he had managed to watch her in some form or fashion the entire night. Only now though was he able to break away long enough to see her. "If you would excuse us Miriam, I was hoping I could have a dance with Michaela."

Michaela blushed. Again, it wasn't that she didn't want to dance with her father, but it was just so embarrassing that no one else would ask her. It was like charity, people trying to make her feel special. She shook her head. "It's alright Father. I'm sure your very busy this evening. We don't have to dance."

Joseph frowned at Mike's refusal and bent close to her ear. "I ask that you do not deny me the opportunity to dance with my youngest daughter on this evening. I would like to take pride in showing you off to everyone here." As he leaned back, the seriousness in his eyes told Michaela that she would not be getting out of the dance so quickly. Taking a step back, he offered his hand and waited, almost challenging her not to accept his offer. Michaela though, knew that she couldn't say no if she tried, and, with a gentle smile (perhaps excited at the prospect of having a dance for the night with someone who truly wanted to dance with her), she took his hand and followed him to the dance floor.

* * *

The November air was getting colder and colder, carrying the promise of a frigid winter. Marjorie didn't mind, though. In fact, she had barely realized that it was cold at all until she felt the fabric of her shawl drape across her shoulders. Taking the edges of the shawl from the disembodied hands, she turned from where she stood facing off the back porch and leaned against the railing.

"Thank you." She smiled up at Robert who returned the gaze.

"You're very welcome." Marjorie's face seemed to burn against the chilly air. "So, has the debutante ball been everything that everyone says it's supposed to be?"

"I don't really know. I didn't have many expectations going into it."

"My, that's not like many of the other girls I've talked to."

"Well, in all honesty it wasn't something I wanted to do. It was more forced upon me by my father who refuses to listen to reason." Marjorie mumbled the last bit under her breath.

"I'm sure Dr. Quinn was just looking out for your best interest. After all, from what I hear the ball is just one of the necessary evils."

"Yes well, it feels like I'm steer being sold at auction."

"But it's over now and that is all that's important."

"Yes it's over and life can return to normal. Maybe I can even go back to school now." Marjorie remained slightly oblivious to how Robert's face fell in the moonlight.

"Yes, you can go back to school, and…"

"And?"

Robert squirmed a little, stuffing his hand in his pocket and pulling it out again. Finally, he came to a rest, leaning against the railing and staring out over the backyard. He took a deep breath, his chest puffing out, and held it before releasing it slowly.

"After I finish with the academy in the fall, I've decided that I would like to attend law school."

"Really? I thought you wanted to go to West Point."

"I did, but I realized that that life wasn't really what I wanted. I want something a little more stationary, where I can stay put and have a house to come home to each night. That's not really in the cards for a soldier."

"No, but wouldn't a soldier's life be exciting? I think if I were a boy, I should like it. You'd get to see so many new places and meet new people. It would be amazing."

"Yes, well, as I said that's not really what I want anymore."

Marjorie turned her head and considered the boy standing next to her before shifting her body to better be able to see him in the dark. "And what is it you want?"

Robert squirmed again. "I'm not really sure at this point, but the one thing I do know is that I would like to see more of you."

Marjorie swallowed hard. She had never considered the fact that she may be standing here, on the night of her coming out hearing Robert say these things. If she had ever thought of anybody, it was Benjamin who she would spend her time with, but something inside her warmed at the thought of her and Robert together. She lowered her eyes to the railing (a motion well taught by Ms. Peabody). "I would like to see more of you as well."

Robert felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He felt a smile of relief stretch his lips. "And I have to say I'm glad your father made you attend your ball because then I couldn't do this." His voice was a heavy whisper, not presumptive, but matter of fact as he took a step toward Marjorie and lifted her face to look at him. Miriam wouldn't have recognized the seriousness with which her brother considered the girl in front of him, and she wouldn't have understood the careful deliberation that went behind his next moves. Instead of acting on a whim, a desire, Robert thought through, not wanting to make this new, fascinating girl standing before him uncomfortable, or disgraced. As he leaned toward her, Marjorie thought at first that he would kiss her. Her heart fluttered at the thought of such a thing and she eagerly waited to feel his lips on her, but it never came. Instead, she felt the gentleness of his lips as they brushed along her cheek.

Sensing Robert lean back, Marjorie allowed her eyes to flutter open. _A kiss on the cheek_ it wasn't exactly what she had anticipated, but it was what she had received, and somehow it was better.

* * *

The music had long faded into the annals of history. Guests had gone home, food was put away, and the Quinn residence retreated to bed thoroughly exhausted. All except for one, that is.

Michaela's mind was turning, analyzing each minute of the night. She thought about all of the girls she'd seen with their beaus and smiling faces. She thought of Marjorie and her dress and dancing and the way many of the boys had seemed to flock to her. Michaela had never been one to be interested in boys. She simply never had the time; she was always day dreaming or studying. She knew that she wanted to be a doctor more than anything else, but she wondered if she would have to give up dances like tonight in order to conquer that dream. She hoped not because it all seemed so fun, at least it did from her angle. Turning onto her side, she stared at her best friend, resting comfortably next to her in bed.

"Miriam. Miriam."

"Hmm?"

"Are you asleep?" Like magic, the still girl seemed to come to life, yawning and stretching her arms.

"No. I was just trying to relive everything about tonight." Miriam smiled under the cover of darkness.

"I was too." Although Michaela's admittance was the same as Miriam's, her voice didn't hold near the enthusiasm that her friend's did. Miriam frowned.

"Did you have a good time tonight?"

"I suppose so, why?"

"It's that you seem kind of… sad."

Michaela fell silent. Apparently, she was more obvious than she thought. Somehow, the thought of her friend already recognizing her troubles gave Michaela the courage to put everything into words. "It's just that…."

"What?"

"Do you think I'm pretty?" Miriam laughed unexpectantly, making Michaela want nothing more than to crawl under the covers and never come out.

"Are you joking? Of course, you're pretty. Your one of the prettiest girls at school."

"Then why do you think that no one wanted to dance with me tonight?"

"Oh, is that what's wrong?"

Michaela's face twisted in shame. "It's a shallow question isn't it?"

"No, I think it's a perfectly normal question, but I don't know what the answer is."

"I watched all of the girls at the party tonight. They all laughed and tossed their hair. I couldn't help but wish that I could be like that, commanding the attention of everyone around me. Even you had a few dances." Michaela's admittance was a mumble, an embarrassed whisper spoken only because of the protection of the dark night that covered her.

"I didn't do anything special; boys just picked me to dance."

"That's what I'm saying. I don't know why I'm different. Why no one wanted me." Miriam rolled over in bed to face her friend.

"Then let's make you like everyone else."

"What do you mean?" Somehow, that sounded like it could be a complete disaster.

"We can use Robert as our experiment. You're always interested in conducting experiments. Let's try to make it so he asks you to dance at least once at the New Year Eve's ball this year. We'll butter him up and then I can show you some of the things that Mamma has taught me to do. Then after he dances with you I'm sure some of the other boys would notice."

Michaela lay quite for quite some time, thinking about the offer. What would if feel like to have someone sweep her off her feet and glide her around the room? It was a feeling that she definitely wanted to know, and perhaps Miriam was right. No one had ever told her how to be like the girls she saw tonight, but maybe she could learn. Maybe she could even learn by New Years. Setting her jaw, Michaela's eyes shone with determination.

"When do we start?"

* * *

_Sorry that everything's coming so slow guys, but I hope you enjoyed the chapter!_


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

"Ouch!" Michaela yelped in her seat, ducking her head out of Miriam's reach. "What are you doing up there?'

"Nothing if you don't be still."

"I can't help it, it hurts." Michaela stared into the mirror and caught the reflection of Miriam's gaze. It was like a staring contest. The first to blink, or turn away would be the one to relinquish her position, but Michaela knew that it was really no contest at all. Miriam was just trying to help, and without that help, Michaela knew that there was no way she could learn to become a lady.

Sighing, she lifted her head slightly, allowing her friend to once again take up the strands of hair that had loosened with the sudden jerky movements and repin them into place. "See there? You already look positively gorgeous." Something told Michaela that Miriam was enjoying this makeover more than she was, and yet she was the one who asked for it.

Michaela screwed her face up in the mirror before shifting her eyes down to the book lying open in front of her. "But I don't look like the girl in the picture."

"But we're not done yet. Just wait." Miriam said a little dreamily, taking lose strands and twirling it in her fingers. She looped and draped them in various positions across Michaela's head all the while watching the ever-changing reflection in the mirror. When she was finally satisfied with her own creative desires, she dropped the locks with a sigh and leaned in over Michaela's shoulder. "What's next?"

Michaela lifted the fashion magazine up so Miriam could see it. "It looks like the hair above her ear loops back into the top hair arrangement."

"Is it braided or not?"

Michaela squinted at the picture. "Flat, I suppose." She shrugged the question off, but Miriam bent down to examine the picture more carefully.

"No it isn't, it's braided!"

"Oh," The admittance came a matter of factly, "does that matter?"

"Of course!" Miriam's excitement startled Michaela. _Good grief braided or not it's not a life-altering question. _"If it's supposed to be braided and it's not then everything will look lopsided and if it isn't supposed to be braided then the arrangement will look too thick."

"All right so it's braided then." Michaela felt dumb, very dumb. How could she know all these things about chest colds and indigestion and have no idea of the importance of braiding one's hair.

Taking the designated hair in her hand, Miriam sectioned off the pieces and with what seemed like to Michaela was a flick of her wrist, Miriam had braided it. "Wow, you're really good at that." Michaela whispered, leaning in toward the mirror. Taking the fresh braid in her hand, she ran her fingers down the smooth, shiny strains, captured in place and patiently waiting their release. "I'm nowhere close to being that fast."

Miriam just shrugged. "Momma taught me how to braid my hair every night before I go to bed. It keeps the tangles out. Do you not do that?" Michaela shook her head.

"I've never thought about braiding my hair for bed before, but it makes sense to do so."

"How long does it take you to brush your hair out in the mornings?" Michaela shrugged.

"Only about five minutes or so, but Martha usually does it for me."

Miriam stretched the braid to the back of Michaela's head, scrapping her friends scalp as she pinned it. "Ouch."

"Just a second, I'm almost done… and there." Miriam hesitantly lifted her hands away from Michaela's head and took a step back to admire her work. Fortunately for her, she couldn't see Michaela's face in the mirror.

"What is it?"

The mass of hair was pile high on the crown of Michaela's head, with loose tendrils sticking out at random intervals. The braid Miriam had just finished, being much thicker than it needed to be looked like a long growth traveling the side of Michaela's head, before being jammed down into the chignon, which was now pointed and misshapen. As tight as the arrangement felt against Michaela's scalp the mass was loose and feathery at the top.

Miriam huffed at her obvious failure while trying to regain her composure. "It's what's in the book." Michaela shifted her eyes down to the magazine she held in her lap.

"That is not what's in the magazine."

"I followed the directions that they gave!"

Wordlessly Michaela folded back the book and held it next to her face, placing the elegant arrangement next to the chaotic mess. Despite Miriam's protest, there seemed to be no resemblance what so ever. Irritated, Miriam snatched the book from Michaela's hand and fell into a chair on the other side of the vanity. She had to figure out what went wrong.

Michaela, in turn stared captivated by her reflection. She tilted her head to one side, throwing the mass of hair off balance so that it was leaning to the right. Reaching up with her hand, she poked at it, shifting the weight to the other side.

"It keeps falling," she mumbled under her breath. Miriam glanced up.

"Don't move your head."

"How am I supposed to not move my head?"

"Well you shouldn't move your head much anyway." Miriam rose from her seat and crossed the room to Michaela, stopping to retrieve a book in the process. She steadied Michaela's head with her hands and then, flattening the giant coiffure with a few pats, placed the book on top. "Now, walk to the door over there."

Frowning with concentration, Michaela took the first two steps with no trouble at all. She held her body rigid, barely moving her head from one side to the other, but as she gained confidence and began to move faster, the book began to slip. At first, it simply tilted to the left, causing Michaela to lean her head in that direction to restabilize the object, but nothing could be done to salvage the process and Michaela caught the book as it slide from the top of her head. Turning to Miriam, she looked at her friend exasperatedly.

"This is impossible."

"No it's not. You're just walking too fast."

"Walking too fast? I'm just walking normally."

Miriam stepped forward and took the book from Michaela. "But you can't walk normally. You have to glide. Watch." Placing the book onto her head, Miriam began her journey from the door where Michaela still stood to the opposite wall. "You have to glide so that you don't bob up and down like when you walk normally, and in order to do that you bend your knees a little." The book never even shuddered. "Try again."

Once again, the book made the journey across the room, this time only shakier than the last. "I don't get it. How are you so good at this? I'm positively awful."

Miriam blushed. "I'm not that good. I've only learned the basics of what Momma has taught me, but she says I'll get better when I go to finishing school." Miriam seemed to beam. It had only been within the past few months that the discussion of finishing school became more prevalent, and although there were several years before she would attend, the excitement of it all was beginning to build. She dreamed of being able to create the beautiful pieces of embroidery that her mother could produce, or grow lilies worthy of entry in the Boston Ladies League annual flower show. She would learn all of those skills from a finishing school, and when she has her coming out, everyone will talk of what a catch Miriam Hathwell is. Just imagining it made Miriam shiver.

Miriam, lost in her own daydream missed the way Michaela's nose curled at the mention of finishing school, and Michaela, not really wanting to get in a disagreement didn't say anything, but instead sat down in front of the vanity and began to pull the pins from her hair.

"What are you doing?" Miriam asked, disappointed as her creation began to disappear before her eyes.

"I'm taking this down. I can't go out in public like this. I'd be the laughing stock of everyone in Boston."

"It's not that bad, honestly." Miriam pleaded. A sharp knock on the door, jarred the girls from their conversation and sent both of them leaning toward the door.

"Miss Miriam 'tis almost five and your brother's preparin' to go."

Miriam's eyes lifted in satisfaction. "Let's see what Martha thinks of the new chignon." Turning for the door, she let the older woman in and explained the problem at hand.

Martha's eyes were dark and grey as they roamed over Michaela. She disapproved; Michaela saw it instantly, though Miriam still had yet to recognize the expression in the quick moving eyes.

"I think the two of ya is far too young ta be dealin' with these fancy chignons. The back hair should not be put up until well after the fifteenth birthday if ya ask me, and it'd be better to wait 'til sixteen." Marching over to Michaela, she pulled at the remaining pins holding the mold in place, ignoring the look of shame that wrote across Miriam's features and the faltering disappointment with which Michaela lowered her eyes. "Now, let's undo this mess and then we'll prepare Miss Hathwell to leave for the day." Taking a hairbrush from the vanity, she batted at the tangled hair in short strokes. Michaela bit her lip against the humiliation.

* * *

"I can't tell you how much I enjoyed your visit." Marjorie lowered her eyes and batted her crimson lashes against her cheek. Robert found he had to restrain a smile.

"I must thank you for allowing me to stop by." Reaching out, he lifted the edge of her chin. "I enjoyed my lunch as well." Marjorie blushed and the warmth spreading in Robert's chest broadened. Taking her hand in his, he squeezed her fingertips. "My only regret now it that I promised Mother to have Miriam home by dinner."

"I suppose that just means you'll have to call again." She offered him a sly smile.

"Of course, and let's not forget that the New Year's ball is in less than two weeks." Marjorie's eyes flashed excitedly before the obnoxious clomping of shoes against the hard wood of the stairs broke her trance. She glanced annoyed toward the noise.

"That has to be Michaela. Honestly the girl has the grace of a cow."

Robert laughed at the joke before turning his attention toward the stairs. Marjorie was correct. It was their sisters, and the loud stopping was indeed coming from Michaela who was more hopping down the stairs than anything else.

"Are you ready chipmunk?" He teased his sister, strumming the top of his hat. Miriam merely rolled her eyes. "What on earth have you two been doing up there?" Robert's eyes widened in alarm as Michaela moved into better view. He reached out and flicked the end of her frizzled and rather poofy hair. Marjorie burst in a delightful giggle, one that grated to Michaela's nerves.

"It looks like you held her head over the fire! Tell me Michaela are you trying to singe it all off?"

Robert clucked his tongue and shook his head. "I have to be honest with you, Michaela. I don't believe baldness would be a very becoming feature on you."

Michaela turned a shade of deep red and instantly jerked from Robert's grasp. Scouring her eyes, she retorted vehemently, "And I have to be honest with you, Robert. I don't think flattery is a very becoming feature on you." Raising her eyebrow, she grinned in satisfaction as all humor passed from Roberts face and he took a step back to gather himself once again. It wasn't until she encountered Miriam's reproachful stare, that she remembered her goal for the New Years ball. _If you speak to him like that, he'll never notice you._ Michaela bit her tongue and tried to come up with anything to fill the awkward silence.

"Thank you for brining Miriam over for a visit today, Robert."

"My pleasure," his eyes wandered to Marjorie. "But now I'm afraid to admit that we must be leaving. Thank you for a lovely afternoon and please tell Dr. Quinn I said hello."

"I will." Marjorie curtsied slightly as so opened the door for the Hathwells to pass through.

Once the visitors had left for the evening, the door shut with a harsh slam. "Good knight, Michaela you are the rudest child I have ever met in my entire life!"

"I'm so embarrassed…"

"You should be. Father would be ashamed…" At the mention of their father, Michaela bristled. What right did Marjorie have in deciding what their father would and would not do? She never even bothered to get to know him, and know she was throwing his approval around like it was hers to give out.

"Robert Hathwell had no right to tease me about my hair, and neither did you for that matter!" Marjorie turned her back on her sister and moved toward the parlor, but Michaela wouldn't let her get away that easily. She followed close on her sister's heels.

"He was just having a little fun, while stating the obvious. I mean, he wasn't lying. You do look ridiculous."

"Just because something is truth doesn't mean it needs to be said."

"And just because you have an easily bruised ego doesn't mean that we can't have a little fun with it. Besides you have to admit that he was funny."

"He was not."

Marjorie shrugged as though she didn't care. "Fine he wasn't funny to you, but I thought it was a quite charming retort.

Suddenly Michaela's eyes grew wide and she gasped audibly. Marjorie threw her a hasty glance. "What in the world is the matter with you?"

"You're sweet on him!"

"What? I am not!"

"Yes you are!" Michaela laughed. To think Marjorie was actually sweet on someone. After all of the arguing with her father and Rebecca over the ball nearly a month ago, now she was content to just sit back and enjoyed the benefits of it. Michaela shook her head. She would never understand her sister.

In a bad attempt at trying to shrug Michaela's accusation off, Marjorie lowered herself into a chair and pulled a book into her lap. "Fine, believe what you like. It doesn't matter to me."

It was the end of the conversation. Marjorie made it clear by the way she seemed to suddenly become utterly fascinated by her novel, but Michaela wasn't fooled at all. She saw the nervous tick of her sister's jaw as she chewed on the side of her cheek. Pressing her lips together, Michaela fought against the smile that wanted to spread across her face. She loved the fact that finally her sister didn't have it all together. She was embarrassed and defensive although Michaela didn't know why. Turning from the parlor, Michaela made her way upstairs. She needed to do something with her hair before her father got home.

* * *

_There is chapter 32. I do hope you enjoyed it!_


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

The sound of hearty laughter could be heard all the way from the other side of Dr. Quinn's office door. After a busy day, filled with sick children and ill elders, the clinic had finally come to a standstill. The corridors lay quiet and doors stood open. All, that is, except for one.

Dr. Quinn leaned back in his walnut desk chair, hands clasped over his rounded belly as he chewed on the end of a cigar. "What happened next, Benton?" Joseph stared across his desk at his partner, Roger Benton, who sat, legs spread with his chin resting in his hand. Roger Benton laughed.

"My darling wife comes running toward me with little Johnny screaming about how he swallowed his vest button! I dare say she was more upset than Johnny was. When she dumped him in my lap he did nothing but smile and giggle." Benton chuckled at the memory from merely a few days ago.

"Mothers tend to do that with their first children, overreact. I remember Elizabeth once showed up at the clinic because Rebecca had fallen and bumped her head while trying to walk."

"I can't say as I can imagine Elizabeth having lost it over much of anything."

Joseph just laughed and took another pull on his cigar. "If there was anything that that could send her over the edge it would be Rebecca, and only Rebecca. By the time, we had Michaela, the poor child could trip down the last of the stairs and Elizabeth would just right her and keep on moving to her next task. Mike was lacking grace as she learned to walk."

"Well speaking of grace." Benton sat up in his chair a little, "I wanted to tell you how beautiful Marjorie was at her coming out. It seems that that was all I heard of the entire trip home. Cherie was taken with how much grace she held throughout the night."

Joseph seemed to beam at the compliment. He had to admit that throughout the course of the evening even he was impressed by what a respectable job Marjorie had done, and that fact did not go unnoticed by the guests at the dance either. "I'll have to pass your compliment along."

"Oh and Michaela as well…"

Joseph's smile seemed to grow if that was possible. He nodded to himself, as if lost in thought. "She's getting so big."

"Before you know it you'll be having a coming out for her as well."

"Oh come now, Benton, I don't even want to think of it!" The Joseph chuckled in an attempt to hide the uncertainty he felt at the pit of his stomach. Yes, Michaela was growing by leaps and bounds, and one day he would wake up and she would need him no more. What would happen then?

The two men continued to sit in casual conversation, wasting the last few hours of the day. Eventually, however, a soft wrap on the door broke their thoughts and sent both men turning toward the wooden frame in time to see the door swing open on its hinges.

"Oh, I'm sorry Doctor Quinn. I didn't realize you were in a meeting." David Lewis stuck his head through the door and addressed his mentor before moving hastily to close it.

"No, no." Joseph motioned frantically for the boy to enter. "Come in. We've just been discussing trivial matters."

The relief on David's face was evident once he realized that he hadn't interrupted anything important, and soon he had retraced his action, widening the door once more in order to step into the office. He carried with him a rather large pile of folders, which he promptly sat on the corner of Joseph's desk before taking his own seat. After several weeks of working with Dr. Quinn and his partner, David was becoming rather comfortable among the two older men. He had relaxed into his surroundings, no longer anxious of speaking out of place or acting out of turn.

"I updated the files for all of the patients you saw today, sir."

"Thank you, my boy."

"I've heard you've been a great help these past few weeks, David." Benton turned his attention now on the boy sitting next to him. David merely smiled.

"Well, I've learned a lot."

"Please, you've hardly done anything more aside from administrative duties." Joseph shook his head. "And I'm truly sorry for that. I realize that you wished for an apprenticeship to learn medicine, not how to file paperwork."

"But the reality is that paperwork is the foundation of a good practice. If it isn't written in a patient's chart it isn't fact." Benton wrapped his knuckles against the hard wood of his armrest.

David leaned over and lifted the top folder. Flipping it open, he thumbed through the papers. "I had never realized how precise the records had to be kept."

"Hum yes, Benton's right. Patient files are important, but so is learning a proper bedside manner. I think it would be more than appropriate for you to begin shadowing on some clinicals."

"Thank you, sir." David nodded in Joseph's direction, but the older man simply lifted his hand in protest.

"No need to thank me, really. It's time. We'll see if we can begin with a few cases tomorrow, but I'm afraid tonight I have made plans." As if on cue, the clock on the wall began to chime the hour, sending Joseph gazing at it over his shoulder. "And I believe I must be on my way."

Roger Benton stood from his chair, pulling his coat with him. "Are you having an evening out?"

"I promised to take Michaela to an art exhibit while it was still in town and then out for dinner."

"Tell her I said hello." David said reaching for the door handle. "I haven't seen her for a while. She's not over at the Hathwell's as often now that Robert spends so much of his time calling on Marjorie."

Joseph couldn't help but laugh aloud. "He does spend most of his time at my house these days doesn't he," and then he nodded. "I'll be sure to send your message along."

Joseph was left to gather the remainder of his belongings, a few patient files, and his bag before heading for the door. Stepping out into the waiting room, his eyes instantly locked on a lone figure sitting next to a window. The figure was curled up in the seat, chin resting on hand and staring out the window.

"I'm sorry ma'am but we're no longer seeing patients this evening." Joseph teased as he made his way to the lone being.

Michaela turned in time to see her father move toward her and merely rolled her eyes. "Father…"

"That is unless you're here to escort me to the art museum." Coming to rest next to her, he held out his arm, which Michaela took almost immediately.

"Patient, I'm not so sure about, but escort I can be."

* * *

The sun was just beginning to lie beneath the rooftops of Boston as Michaela and Joseph made their way home. Together, the two of them had decided that they would much prefer to walk home after dinner and enjoy the look of the city at Christmas time. Gas lamps dotted along the street, illuminating the fronts of buildings and walkways in a faint glow. Wreaths of green hung from the lamps and red ribbons dotted many of the storefronts. Michaela had enthusiastically commented that she smelled snow in the air. She loved Christmas, with all the festivities, happiness, and magic.

"I think the painting of the mountain was my favorite this time." Michaela noted, bouncing rather contently down the walkway. They were in more or less of a rhythm; she would skip a few steps, chattering about this or that and eventually come to a halt and wait for her father to catch up. After a day at work, Joseph didn't seem to possess nearly half the energy that Michaela did, but he enjoyed watching her nonetheless.

"What did you like about it?" He asked, doffing his hat to a familiar couple strolling past them. Michaela stopped her skip and waited patiently for him to catch up before answering him.

"I think it was the colors. It was so vivid. The sky was blue and the trees so green. I don't think I've ever seen trees like that before."

"You've seen trees in the park."

"But those are different. The trees in that painting were so tall and beautiful and they lived alone like no one ever knew they were there. Do you think that's what it looked like when the pilgrims first came?"

Joseph nodded. "I'm sure it was something like that, vast trees and quiet streams. The Indians lived along the natural curves of the earth, so it would have been the pilgrims who cleared the land and created the first fortifications."

Michaela turned around in the street, walking backwards as she scanned the scenery of where she had just been; the glow of the lamp light, the cobblestone street, and brick buildings that reached high. She tilted her head to one side. "It seems strange. How do we get something like Boston out of trees and grass and mountains?"

Michaela's question sent Joseph looking around, seeing the bustling city through new eyes. "I suppose that is the product of about two hundred years of progress. It's amazing what man is capable of, isn't it?"

Michaela nodded, "but it's sort of sad too. I think I would have liked to have seen the trees." Turning around, Michaela continued her bounce down the street, lost in thought as she gazed in the shop windows. Joseph followed contently behind, thinking over his daughter's words. He could see in her a desire to see different places and experience new things. The idea of wandering amongst the trees standing tall and proud reminded him of his own childhood in Virginia. It was a completely different experience than living in Boston where there was always people and conversation. In Virginia going into town was a thrill, and often times it wasn't the bustle of carriages on the street but the cry of roosters in the barn that woke you each morning. None of his other daughters had craved the experience of nature; Elizabeth had hated the country. She enjoyed the hustle of society, the excitement of the balls and it had been in that mindset that the oldest of the girls had been raised. No one had ever questioned that it could be any different, but Michaela as always asked the questions no one ever thought of. She desired the things that no one else did.

Michaela, as if on cue paused once more, waiting for her father, but this time, instead of turning toward him and smiling, she stood staring into one of the store windows.

"Do you see anything special?" Joseph stopped along side of her, anxious to see what had captured her attention. What he found, though, was not what he expected. The window was decorated lavishly for Christmas with red draperies and rich jewels, at the center of it all stood a delicate pink silk gown. Joseph was rather taken back. Never had Michaela been concerned with clothes and jewelry.

He didn't notice the change in Michaela; the way she stood a little straighter and held her back a little more rigid as she stared at the beautiful gown. "Do you think I would look pretty in pink?" The question seemed to come unexpectedly for Joseph, but Michaela was trying desperately to see herself in such a delicate garment. She tilted her head left, then right, and tried to picture the soft silk sleeves against her own skin.

"I think you would look beautiful in anything." Michaela turned and looked at her father, as if recognizing the bias in his opinion. Instead she shrugged, threading her arms through her father's and adjusting her gait to match his, the energy and enthusiasm from earlier having been forcefully subdued in the sight of the elegant dress.

"I'm not so sure," she whispered. "Miriam seems to think it would wash me out." Nodding at the fact, she turned them toward home, leaving Joseph to wonder at her drastic change.

Wow, it has been forever, but I hope you enjoy this chapter!


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

Michaela swayed to her tiptoes and back as she weighed the _Godey's _magazine in her hand. Coming to a pause, she bounced her knees a little and turned to smile once again at Harrison who was waiting patiently at the carriage. She sighed slightly and turned back to the large door looming in front of her. Reaching for the iron knocker, she tapped out another, rather loud rhythm, and as if in answer to her touch, the door magically swung open.

"Good afternoon Miss Michaela." The Hathwell's butler stood at the entrance of the door and bowed slightly at her sight.

"Good afternoon. I came to visit Miriam today." Michaela smiled brilliantly as she tucked the fashion magazine under her arm.

"Yes, come right inside. She's in her room."

With a quick glance to Harrison, confirmation that she was settled for the day, she stepped inside.

Michaela shrugged out of her coat and handed it off as she looked around.

"Hey there squirt." Robert appeared at the entrance to the parlor. He had his arms folded and was leaning against the doorway. His eyes held a teasing stare, and Michaela could see easily that he would try to make her break once more, but today was going to be different. There would be nothing but smiles and giggles. She was determined to keep herself in check.

"Hello Robert." Her voice seemed to hum and her lips stretched into a tight smile, which loosened to a sincere grin as another figure made his way from around the doorway. "David, I didn't know you were here."

David stuck his head around the door and smiled brightly when he recognized the little girl still standing in the foyer. "I was just helping Robert here with some of his philosophy." David laughed, swatting at his friend with the back of his hand and giving him a teasing smile. He turned back to Michaela and raised his brow. "Did you enjoy the art gallery last week?"

Michaela stared at him blankly for a moment before she remembers what he was referring to before her face lit up and she smiled. "It was wonderful. There was this beautiful painting of the mountains. It made me want to see them in real life." And then with a smile, she changed the subject. "So are you enjoying working at the clinic? Father says you've been a lot of help."

"I've enjoyed working with your father. I'm learning a lot." David smiled sincerely, but was quickly brushed to the side by Robert.

"Yea, yea. You learned a lot and you enjoy your time at the hospital" Robert rolled his eyes. "We've heard it before."

David didn't respond, but made a face at his friend. Michaela laughed, folding her arms across her chest and bringing attention to her magazine for the first time. "So what do you have there?" David motioned at the book with this hand.

For some reason the thought of David and Robert knowing about her magazine and attempt to become a lady made all the blood rush straight to Michaela's cheeks. She was embarrassed. Boys weren't supposed to know how girls learned the things they did, did they? No, not if a mother taught her daughter and so forth and there was something about not having all of the answers that bother Michaela to the core.

"Oh it's just something I brought to show Miriam." She glanced nervously at the stairs. "I best be getting up there and seeing to what she's doing. Have a good time with your… studying."

"Alright." David laughed from his position, turning from the door and pulling Robert with him. Mike could hear their roughhousing and laughter from all the way up the stairs.

Michaela made her way down the hallway to Miriam's room, a journey she knew by heart. When she got to the familiar door, she made no move to knock. Instead, she cracked the door and stuck her head in. "Hello…" She sang through the door, watching as Miriam, who stood bent over her vanity, shot up at the unexpected noise.

"I've been waiting for you!" Excitedly Miriam waved her friend inside. "I have so much to show you," and then dropping her voice to a whisper. "Did you get it?" Michaela held the magazine out in front of her smiling broadly and eliciting a jump from Miriam as well. Giggling, Michaela skirted into the room and laid the magazine to the side before turning her attention to the various jars and bowls scattered across the top of the vanity.

"What's all this?"

Miriam clasped her hands in front of her as her eyes settled over the ingredients. "I found some of Mother's old beauty magazines and I got some ideas."

"Like what?" Michaela bent over a small bowl of milky looking water. Lightly she dipped her finger into the mixture and then sniffed it, wrinkling her nose as she did so. It smelt bitter.

"Well the magazine said that real ladies are supposed to have pale white skin with no blemishes."

Michaela nodded. "No blemishes, got it." She turned to her friend who was just staring back at her through narrowed eyes. Michaela immediately felt that there was something she was missing. "What?"

"No blemishes. That means no freckles."

"But I don't…" turning toward the mirror, Michaela leaned over, examining her face closely. Sure enough, soft traces of brown dots scattered across her nose and the tops of her cheeks. She brushed at the skin lightly. "I suppose I never noticed them before." She admitted with a shrug, but for Miriam the realization was not quite so lightly made.

"You really shouldn't spend so much time outside unless you wear a bonnet."

Michaela shot up from her position hunched over the mirror. "A bonnet? I hate bonnets. They're impossible to see around the brim when you're playing tag and then when I start to run it always falls off and tries to strangle me with the ribbons." Her face screwed into a light pout as she silently begged her friend to tell her that a bonnet was not all that necessary, but Miriam didn't give in. Instead, she crossed her arms disapprovingly across her chest.

"You shouldn't be running around, or playing tag. Ladies don't do those things."

"But you used to do them with me."

"Well yes, but that was when we were kids. If you are really serious about trying to be a true lady then we must stop, and you must let me help you get rid of those freckles."

Michaela's face fell a little. Somehow, the prospect of never getting to run around outside or playing tag again made all of life seem rather drab. Where would the excitement be? Perhaps she could find it in dances, but even then, those didn't happen every day. However, if she wanted to be a lady, and she really did want to be like those ladies who went to the opera in their pretty dresses and elegant hairstyles, this is what she was going to have to do. Michaela's shoulders sagged as she turned back toward the mirror.

"Ok, what do we do?"

"You're going to soak your face in that bowl."

"In that? It smells awful."

"But it will make all of your freckles disappear." Michaela quickly turned back to her friend somewhat desperate for another solution.

"Isn't there anything else? Can't we just put lotion or something on them?"

"Those don't work, and besides I spent all morning squeezing the juice out of the chickweed to make this for you. Now put your face it. It doesn't have to stay in long."

Sitting before the bowl, Michaela bit her lip. She wasn't particularly looking forward to this, but she didn't have much choice. Miriam had gone to a lot of trouble to help. Sighing her consent, she pushed her hair back and slowly submerged her face into the thick liquid.

Seconds later, her face came out and Miriam helped her dry off before Michaela eagerly turned back to the mirror. Running her fingers across her face, she frowned in disappointment. "They're still there."

"Of course they are. You didn't think they would go away on the first try did you? I put the rest of the mixture in a bottle and you can take it home. The magazine said to use it every night before bed."

"When will the freckles go away?"

Miriam just shrugged, reaching for a tin laying out on the vanity. "It said you should see them disappear in about six weeks."

"Six weeks!"

"Well, these things take time." Miriam hummed back, probably a bit patronizingly, but Michaela didn't notice. Instead, she was concern with what her friend was now rubbing across her cheeks.

"And what are you doing now?"

"This is called rouge. You rub it into your cheeks and it makes them red."

"Why?"

Miriam furled her brow. Honestly, did Michaela really have to ask so many questions? She was the one who asked to become more ladylike, and all Miriam was trying to do was help. "Because it looks like your warm." Miriam stopped her vigorous rubbing to look into Michaela's blank stare. "You know, like you're flushed. Apparently boys think that's attractive."

"Oh." Satisfied with her desire to know what was going on, Michaela sat content as Miriam finished her cheeks before turning back to the mirror. She stared somewhat horrified at the large bright red circles drawn perfectly across her cheeks. "I'm not sure that this is how they do it."

"What do you mean? It looks nice." Miriam smiled brightly and with a quick hop, turned her attention to the Godey's magazine that Michaela had brought in earlier.

"I've never seen anyone look like this." Michaela murmured under her breath, reaching for a damp rag. She began subtly to scrub at her cheek, and made special note as the red began to fade before her eyes. Miriam on the other hand was already in another world.

"So what kind of dress were you going to get for the ball?"

"I'm not sure. Rebecca was going to take me shopping Friday."

"I think you should try a square neck line this time. It would look nice with your neck and apparently it's going to be in this season."

Michaela sighed. It had been twenty minutes and she was already bored. Maybe she wasn't cut out to be a lady. "Ok." Her mind was reeling for something else to do, anything she could do.

"Then you could wear your hair up like we fixed it the other day. I know you didn't really like it that much, but I think if you let me practice a little bit it'll begin to look better."

"Yes, I think that is a grand idea." Michaela sat up on her stool and tossed her rouge stained rag onto the vanity, making special aim to hit the hideous face wash. "So since everything is planned for now I think we should play a game of chess. I've been practicing with Father and I'm getting good. I bet I can even beat you now." Turning to Miriam, she wiggled her brow suggestively and waiting for excitement to appear. When it didn't, Michaela rose from her seat and grabbed the magazine from Miriam's hand. "Come on. We can come back to that. I promise!" She then proceeded to drag them both from the room.

* * *

It was nearly dinner time before Michaela returned home, bounding through the front door, thrilled by the smell of Martha's cooking. It made her stomach growl. It had been quite a while since lunch that afternoon and dinner was still half an hour away. Crossing her arms across her belly, Michaela looked left and right. Perhaps she could steal a cookie or two without Martha noticing. Michaela swallowed, she would have to be quick. If Martha happened to catch her she would pay the price, and that price could very well range anywhere between a stern lecture to bed without supper. Feeling her stomach grumble once more, Michaela took a deep breath. She'd rather risk it.

Tip toeing toward the dining room, past the room where Father sat hunched over his desk, Michaela made it to her destination with the stealth of a fox. Casually she leaned across the doorjamb, scanning all the corners thoroughly before allowing her eyes to fall on her destination. There, sitting on the buffet at the far side of the room was the cookie jar. What sort of cookies were in it, Michaela couldn't recall. She was too distracted by the open door next to the buffet. Through the door, she would see out the back window of the pantry down the little walkway that connected the kitchen to the rest of the house. She could see Martha's skirts flying as the older woman turned this way and that.

Michaela's strummed her fingers nervously against the doorjamb. She would have to be quick. Martha usually moved in and out of the house at least half a dozen times while she was trying to cook a meal, sometimes more. Every moment that Michaela stood there, was a moment closer to Martha coming inside, and yet she could bring herself to move. She hadn't yet decided what she would do and yet somehow she felt her foot move into the dining room, guiding her closer to her goal. She was halfway to her destination when she paused one last time, watching Martha intensely before shooting across the room.

She had to stand on her tiptoes to reach the top of the jar, and then the lid was far heavier than she thought it would be. She struggled to lift it high enough to clear the top of the jar. Straining more and more, Michaela bit her lip, knowing that any longer she would surely be caught. Soon she would have to abort the actions. Then…

"Michaela…"

The lid went slamming back onto the jar with a loud thud, and the sound of her name sent Michaela spinning around, prepared for the worst, but it never came.

Instead of Martha, Michaela found herself staring at her father, but her eyes still widened, unsure of what was going to happen next.

Joseph didn't say anything. Instead, he crossed the room toward her, casually lifting the lid off the jar and reaching his hand in. "I was wondering if you would spend a few minutes with me?"

His voice held no anger or frustration, but a candid laugh as he pulled two cookies from the jar.

"Of course, Father. Is everything ok?"

"Oh yes, just wanted to see what you've been up to. I mean, aside from…" He gestured the cookie jar with his hand. "Besides," his voice lowered to a mere whisper as he looked around, "if we stay here Martha might catch us." Then, taking a cookie for himself, he handed the other to her with a wink.

Michaela had the cookie eaten by the time they made it to Joseph's office and was promptly licking the crumbs off her fingers as she climbed into the chair facing her father's desk. "What did you want to talk about?" She asked, turning around in her seat to look at her father who was shutting the door behind him.

"Well," Joseph started as he turned from the door, but quickly lost his train of thought as his eyes came to rest on Michaela. Quickly, his eyes narrowed on her face, puzzled. "Are you feeling alright?"

Michaela's eyes widened in uncertainty. Had she not gotten rid of all of the rouge? "Yes, I feel fine, why?" Joseph stepped forward to cup her face in his hand as he ran a thumb across her cheek. His eyes considered her worriedly.

"You look a little flushed."

Michaela jerked her face back, perhaps a little too suddenly as she scrapped at her cheek. "I suppose I was startled when you caught me with the cookie jar." Her words hung open in the air as she waited to see if he would accept her excuse or not. She squirmed a little under his gaze and he judged her composure, running a hand to her forehead to check for fever before smiling and turning back to the subject at hand.

"I was wondering if you had any ideas you might impress upon me for Christmas." Joseph smiles as he sat down at his desk. Michaela didn't say anything as she considered what it was that she really did want; A new dress? Shoes? Part of her would like to have asked for a new book or something of that sort, but that didn't seem very feminine at all. For a half second she wondered if she could persuade her father to purchase some rouge for her, the thought of that conversation made her smile.

"Ummm…" she hummed in a singsong voice, her legs swinging widely back and forth from under the chair. Then, she got an idea. Smiling sheepishly, she clasped her hands before her, shrugging her shoulders up. "Do you know what I'd really like?"

"What?" Joseph smiled at the little glint in his daughter's eye.

"I think I would like a nice bottle of perfume."

"Perfume?" Joseph couldn't prevent the surprise from registering in his voice and he leaned back a little with eyebrows raised. Michaela seemed to recognize his reaction almost immediately and blushed.

"Well, I thought it might be nice to wear to the New Year's party, but I don't have…"

"No, no." Joseph waved his hands in front of his face, silently scolding himself for his surprised reaction. The last he wanted was Michaela second-guessing herself. "If you would like a nice bottle of perfume, I think it is rather suitable for a young lady your age." Leaning over the top of his desk, he studied her again, this time almost curiously. Was she truly growing up that fast? Resting his elbows on his desk, he held his palms up, summoning her from her seat to stand at the edge of his desk. The two Quinns sat at eye level, looking at one another from the short distance across the desk. "I just want to make sure…" Joseph started, uncertain what it was he wanted to say before he actually started to speak. He reached out with a finger and tapped Michaela on the cheek, making her smile in the process. "You are alright, yes? You've just been acting rather strange lately."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the sound of the front door slamming shut could be heard throughout the entire house, followed by a loud harrumph of a cry, "Father!" It was unmistakably Marjorie.

"Then again things haven't been exactly normal around here, either." Joseph smiled softly, wrinkling his nose so that Michaela laughed. Before she could reply, though, the study door was thrown upon, unleashing Marjorie to the room.

"Father, I have a very important question to ask you…" There wasn't any apology for interrupting, or acknowledgement of anyone else in the room.

"Just a moment, Marjorie…" Joseph started, but Michaela interrupted sweetly. Leaning over the desk, she planted a kiss to his cheek.

"It's ok. I need to wash for dinner anyway." Turning on her heels, she jogged from the room, full on the energy and excitement she always seemed to posses. She was even content enough to smile at Marjorie as she left.

Joseph waited until he heard the door click shut before he turned his attention to Marjorie, standing anxiously before him with hands clasped behind her back. "What is it you wanted to ask me?"

"May I go to New York after New Years?"

"Excuse me?"

"Sarah invited me to spend a few days with her in New York before we go back to school."

"Well, I haven't thought of our plans after the holidays."

"Well you were going to let me go back to school in January, weren't you?" Marjorie's eyes widened. The thought of having to spend another four months in Boston wanted to make her sick.

"Yes, you'll be returning to Hartford if that is what you wish."

"Then why can't you let me leave just a week or so early so I can visit her in New York." Still Joseph was silent, considering all aspects of the few weeks after New Years in his mind. This quietness, however, concerned Marjorie, who saw no look of leniency across his face. "Please, I haven't seen her since last May!" It was her final heartfelt plea that finally made Joseph consider the girl standing before him. She had done all he asked of her, although not quietly, but without public scene. There was no reason to deny her the thing she seemed to want the most, and he knew all too well the importance of a close friend especially to a child like Marjorie.

Sighing, he lifted his hands to the air. "I don't see why not."

With a squeal of exuberance, Marjorie jumped, clapping her hands before her. "Thank you." With a turn of her head, she had flashed from the room, looking similar to Michaela as she did.

* * *

_There's chapter 34! I hope you enjoyed it everybody!_


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

"What about this style?" Rebecca stepped around the corner holding a dress out for Michaela's inspection. Much to her surprise, this shopping venture was not going as quickly as usual. Usually they could step in, Rebecca would pick something nice, they would decide on a color and all would be over in twenty minutes. Now, they were nearly an hour and a half into their shopping trip, and Michaela was still going strong, shifting through fashion plates and thumbing through dress samples.

Michaela glanced up from her position standing over a fashion plate and wrinkled her nose. "Actually I was hoping for something with shorter sleeves, maybe even capped sleeves."

"Capped sleeves, really?"

"Yea, and maybe then I could get a bracelet or something to wear?" Rebecca raised her eyebrow and nodded, taking a deep breath as she started to scan the walls with new eyes. Now she was looking for capped sleeves.

Michaela smiled as she looked back down to her task, barely able to contain her excitement. Slowly but surely she was checking off the list of things that had to be accomplished before the New Years Dance, and now with the dance less than a week away, the list was rather short. Christmas had come and gone, as promised she had received a new bottle of perfume from Joseph as well as some extra money. "For a new dress, or whatever you choose to spend it on," Joseph had said with a smile. Michaela was really almost beside herself and the night after Christmas, she couldn't go to sleep for dreaming of her perfect dress. She could see herself so perfectly, walking down the stairs as the strings played in the parlor. The quiet hum of conversation filled the room as Michaela entered, first smiling to her father, and then as she stepped into the room all conversation stopped and every eye turned toward her. Her father stepped over and took her arm, leading her into the room the same way he had with Marjorie and suddenly there was Robert, David, and many more boys standing around, smiling and bowing. "My I have this dance?" They all seemed to be asking, and Michaela couldn't help but smile, feeling the way her father's hand tightened around hers.

Michaela frowned, remembering her daydream. Perhaps it was best she get a pair of new shoes as well, ones with a little less of a heel. She didn't really want to have to deal with the humiliation of tripping in front of every visitor at the dance. Shutting her magazine, Michaela turned her attention to a wall of shoes.

"Did you not find anything?" Rebecca asked, appearing over Michaela's shoulder. Sighing, Michaela fingered a pair of pink beaded slippers before her.

"I didn't see anything in the plates."

"Oh but those are nice." Rebecca hummed gaily turning her attention to Michaela's methodical movements.

"Really? Do you like them?" Michaela smiled at Rebecca's admittance. She sort of liked the slippers herself.

"I think they're lovely, especially for someone who doesn't have a good pair of dancing slippers."

Michaela tilted her head, examining the slippers before turning to Rebecca expectantly, asking her the same question she posted to her father only a few weeks before. "Do you think I'd look good in pink?" Her words were hurried and somewhat run together, the direct result of her age and excitement.

"Well let's see." Rebecca lifted one of the slippers and held it against Michaela's cheek, tilting her little sister's head back as she did so. Michaela sat patiently as Rebecca examined her face in the dim light. "Well, I have to say that it seems to make your hair just glow."

Michaela's face broke into a beaming smile as she reached back and felt the feathery soft strands trailing down her back.

"So does this mean we have a color now, because things would be so much easier if we had a color." Rebecca teased, smiling at Michaela's vigorous nod. "Alright then, a pink dress with capped sleeves that matches your new slippers." She reached for the other slipper before turning back to the dress samples.

"Rebecca?" Michaela asked after a few more minutes of looking. She pulled a dress from a hanger and held it up. "What do you think about the pointed bodices?"

Rebecca turned to the dress and eyed it carefully. The gown itself was gorgeous and flowing and would be beautiful on any full grown woman, but it was just a bit too old for the little girl who held it out staring at it as if she couldn't decide whether she liked it or not. "I don't think I've ever stopped to consider pointed bodices."

"Well, I read that they were in fashion now."

"You read?" Michaela just nodded, not registering the surprise in Rebecca's voice. _She's been reading?_ It seemed as if before her very eyes, Michaela had become a new person, and Rebecca couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not. Rebecca sought to find the words to answer her sister's question, to try to shed a little viewpoint now that she understood that they weren't just shopping for one occasion, but that Michaela was learning to shop for what probably would be her entire life. Stepping forward, Rebecca took the garment from Michaela and held it out so they both could see.

"Well, I think the pointed bodices are very nice, but only for certain body types. To be able to wear this nicely a young lady needs to have a very well defined waist for the bodice to curve in before the skirt flutters out at her waist." She swished at the skirt with her fingers. "I think it would look nice over a pleasant corset." She turned her head to Michaela, to see if her sister registered what she was saying, and somehow the little girl had because she simply shrugged her shoulders and moved on to something else.

It was another twenty minutes of looking before Rebecca gasped. Pulling the garment off the rack and holding it before her, she examined everything carefully. It had capped sleeves, a blunt waist, and a square neckline. In all, it was absolutely perfect, and when she showed it to Michaela, the little girls just smiled.

"That's it."

* * *

"Why don't you take the Manual on Modern Surgery and the Encyclopedia of Disease." Joseph pulled two books off his self before turning back to David. "The Manual will help educate you on some of the external injuries and simple procedures we encounter on a daily basis." Walking over to where the other boy sat, he held the book out and left it fall into David's hands.

Flipping through the pages, David's eyes landed on various sketchings of limbs and diagrams of organs. One page he saw in passing was a step-by-step instruction for the different types of suturing. "Does it meet your approval?" Joseph asked, smiling at the interest with which David glanced through the new book.

"This is going to be interesting." David looked up to receive the other book from his mentor.

"The Encyclopedia will help with little odd and end things, allergies, basic diseases and such." Quietly, David began to flip through the book once more, examining the pictures and reading random phrases. This time, though, the sound of the front door opening and shutting broke his examination of his new texts and turned Joseph's attention to the foyer.

"Hello, Father." David heard Michaela's voice before he saw her, and was already grinning before the girl even stepped into the room and turned toward him. "David! I didn't realize you were here."

"Your father was just loaning me some books." He held up the brown leather spine as if offering proof to the validity of his words. While he was speaking, Rebecca appeared in the doorway behind Michaela.

"Did you finally find a dress for the ball?" Joseph smiled, hands in pockets.

"I did and it's so beautiful." Michaela felt Rebecca's hands press into her shoulders.

"Actually, I was hoping that I could talk to you, Father." Rebecca's gentle alto hummed.

"Alright, well David and I were just finishing…"

"It's alright Dr. Quinn." David said, standing from his seat. "I'll show Michaela which books your letting me take with me." With a nod to Rebecca, he crossed the foyer into the parlor, followed closely by Michaela.

"So you were dress shopping?" David asked, sitting down on one of the sofas. He'd off handedly picked the safest topic he knew to discuss with girls. Granted he hadn't spent much time around girls his own age, with the exception of the multitude of debutant balls that hit every year. However, what little he knew of them, he did know that they enjoyed talking about dresses and jewelry and such, and so by asking Michaela the safest topic he thought possible, he actually proved how little he knew the particular girl standing across from him.

Michaela shrugged her shoulders slightly. "Yes, I needed a dress to wear to the New Years ball this week. You're coming, aren't you?" she was half heartedly interested in the conversation at hand and instead was more intrigued in seeing what books he held in his hand.

"I'll be there, if for no other reason than to keep an eye on Robert." He laughed off hand at his own joke, and Michaela smiled.

"So what did he give you?" She gestured to the books sitting in his lap as she sat down next to him on the sofa.

"Oh um…" He flipped the books over so that she could see the title, thinking nothing of her question until she leaned over him to tap on the book in his far hand.

"That one's my favorite."

"The surgical manual?" David leaned back in order to get a better look at Michaela. Of course, he understood that she always had talked of being a doctor, but somehow he never thought that it was truly a serious venture. In his mind it was always just something that Michaela talked of, that most everybody was waiting for her to grow out of, but that wasn't the case at all. It seems that Michaela had spent her entire life doing what he was just now getting around to, apprenticing under a good doctor's supervision.

Michaela just nodded somberly and reached out to open the book. "I like all the diagrams. There is a really good one of an eye on page 300." She flipped the pages over until the diagram was staring at them from the page. The diagram was on an eye and the surrounding area including all named tissues, muscles, and nerves. "Oh, and I really like the section on sutures." Hastily, she flipped through the pages handed it back to him in time, having found what she was looking for. "The diagrams make it really easy to perform the suture you want, but I always have trouble with the pully stitch regardless." With a simple shrug of her shoulders, she had absolutely amazed David Lewis and left him staring at her in awe.

"Can you do these?"

"Oh yes, Father taught me how on a potato, but I imagine it's different when it's an actual patient."

Slowly, David looked back down at the book before him, suddenly daunted by the years ahead of him and the amount of knowledge that he would have to learn. How would he ever learn it all enough to practice? He had only within the last year decided that medicine is what he wanted to do, and here he sat with an eleven-year-old girl who was not eleven at all. In some ways, she seemed much older and experienced than he was.

Turning back to the girl sitting next to him, he hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her face up to meet his. "By George, Mike," He started tilting his head to one side. "I think you going to be a doctor." It was as if saying it aloud made a reality of the entire situation.

Back in the library, the air was much more subdued as Rebecca sat on the sofa, watching her father pace back and forth before her.

"It's like she was a completely different girl today, asking about what colors matched what and styles of dresses." Rebecca continued.

"I've noticed it myself," he nodded as if conceding a dark secret that he never wanted to admit. Finally, he stopped his pace across the room and dropped, rather tiredly into an armchair. "Could it possibly be that she's growing up?" The question was spoken aloud, but not to Rebecca. Instead, Joseph just stared off into space. He knew this day would come, when he would learn that he'd have to let go of Michaela and allow her be the person she was to become, but somehow that fact seemed easier when he was facing years before that worry occurred. Now, he was face mere months, and the thing that bothered him the most was that he wasn't sure who Michaela would choose to become at the end of it all. Was her childhood dream truly just a dream?

"I have no doubt…" Rebecca started, unsure of whether she wanted to speak her mind or not. "I have no doubt that it was Michaela who kept you alive after Mother died." Joseph simply closed his eyes. "But she's becoming a woman now. She's trying to figure out what that means."

"I don't know how to help her with that."

"Just let her be who she wants, even if that means…" Rebecca's voice fell away, too unsure to verbally announce the fear that they both had. If being a lady was what she wanted to pursue, other things would fall to the wayside, and despite Joseph's desire, he would have to let that happen. Slowly but surely Joseph was afraid he was seeing the end of his Mike, and he wasn't sure what to do with that.

* * *

I Hope you enjoyed chapter 35! Stay tuned for the next installment!


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

_Michaela glided down the stair, one, two, three, remaining__before her feet touched the parquet flooring of the foyer. With a few steps, she followed the myriad of voices and music coming from the parlor and soon found herself standing in the entrance. Her presence had existed in the room mere seconds before all sounds died away, and all eyes turned toward her. She was the center of attention and everyone was left wondering when the youngest Quinn girl had become so beautiful. How had they never noticed her before?_

Michaela smiled at her daydream; tonight was going to be perfect. She could just feel it. Standing before her full-length mirror, she stretched her arms out to her side and twirled around, making the pink satin balloon into a bell shape, fluttering away from her legs. When she stopped, the fabric twisted around her knees, bunching around her ankles, but Michaela just smiled, contently batting her hands against the mussed fabric, fluffing her skirts, petticoats and all before gazing at herself once more in the mirror.

Her hair was perfect, curled and flowing partially down her back. Her skin was soft and creamy; despite the horridness of the solution that Miriam had given her, it had done its job. Her freckles were now all but faded spots against her nose. Now all she had to remember was how to walk without moving her head that much, back straight and no slouching and the night was going to be wonderful.

Butterflies fluttered in her chest as she reached for her gloves and her dance card. She couldn't wait to see how many slots she filled this evening. With a last glance over her room, she made for the door, shutting it behind her when she was certain that she left nothing behind.

"Miss Michaela!" Martha's harsh voice shouted from the end of the hallway. "'Tis past time for you to be downstairs."

Michaela, unconcerned about the time, simply shrugged. "But I have to make an entrance, Martha." She whispered bluntly, making special note to maintain correct posture while she spoke. She didn't get any verbal reaction from Martha; instead, the older woman just eyed her from head to toe. Martha's look was more contemplative than anything else, noticing the peculiar changein the young girl's appearance and posture. Pursing her lips together, she visibly shook her head and, without another word, continued along her way. There was too much to do than to worry over this.

Michaela, of course notice nothing strange, for she had already turned her attention to the staircase. The receiving line that often trailed through the foyer had long gone inside the parlor, leaving no one to witness Michaela's grand entrance down the staircase, or, consequently, her near trip on the fourth step.

It was just how she imagined it; the buzz of laughter and mingling coming from the rooms of the house, the gayety of the piano as it thrust forth a tune to which everyone could dance. Michaela could feel her knees bobble underneath her skirt. She was so nervous! Yet, it was a mixture of a nervousness and excitement all at once as she turned the corner into parlor and then… nothing. There were no eyes; there were no whispers, or smiles. It was as if no one noticed her standing there, and despite the length of time that she stationed herself against the doorframe, no one turned to her. Instead, all eyes were directed to the center of the room, where happy couples were spinning in time to the music.

It was a moment of shear disappointment that happens at least once because of childhood fantasies, and Michaela, forgetting her plans for the evening in light of the stark contrast from her imagination, lost her posture, popping her hip out and clasping her hands in front of her. She stared into the crowd as if hypnotized by the swishing of rich fabrics.

"Michaela, what are you doing?" Miriam's hand at Michaela's back snapped her from her thoughts.

"What?" Michaela glanced over her shoulder, somewhat dazed by the sudden appearance of her friend.

"Don't slouch." Wrapping her hands around Michaela's shoulders, Miriam readjusted her friend's stance, and then leaned over to whisper in her ear, "You look very pretty."

The compliment, no matter how small, made Michaela smile nonetheless, despite the tension of disappointment that strained behind her eyes. "Thank you. So, do we know anyone here?" She brushed at a string of hair clinging to the side of her face.

"Well, Robert and Marjorie are over there by the mantle. They haven't parted all night, but they'll have to eventually. They can't spend all evening with one another without making half the ladies here curious about a possible engagement." Michaela curled her nose. "Let's see. David Lewis is over there speaking to Kitty Hollawell. Brian McCumnos, one of Robert's classmates, is making his rounds on the dance floor. I think he's danced with every young lady here."

Michaela rose to her tiptoes. "Where's Father? Have you seen him?"

"I think he's dancing with Mother." As soon as the words were out of Miriam's mouth, Michaela's eyes landed on her father, spinning lively around the room. She watched him dance, contently studying the expressions of his face with amusement. A dance with Mary Hathwell was never uninteresting, and knowing her father the way she did, she knew that the dance had not been voluntary.

As the song came to a close, and all dancing stopped, Joseph eyes eagerly scanned the perimeter of the room until he ultimately found Michaela who was smiling in his direction. "Look there, Mrs. Hathwell. I believe that our daughters have once again found each other." Lifting his arm to her, he escorted her to where Michaela and Miriam stood by the doorway, both seeming to be in deep conversation while also keeping an eye on their parents. As Joseph got closer to them, Michaela's smile seemed to broaden.

"Father, you look handsome."

"Ho, ho!" Mary Hathwell's cackled howled from between her rosy lips. "Oh what a darling thing you are, so adorable." She reached out to pinch the side of Michaela's cheek, perhaps a little too hard, considering how Michaela forced a smile while trying to extricate herself from the older woman's grasp.

"Well I must say," Joseph started, bending toward both of the girls, "that both of you young ladies look radiant." Then he turned to Michaela. "I was wondering if you might spare some time on your dance card for your father."

"Most certainly." Michaela's assertive nod emphasized her answer and set Mrs. Hathwell on another round of laughter. Joseph merely smiled, fighting the desire to wince at the high pitch squeal.

"Mrs. Hathwell, if you are comfortable here…"

"Yes, yes, go dance with the charming thing. It's adorably, really it is."

Joseph wasted no time in wrapping Michaela's arm around his own and turning her toward the dance floor. "You'll never imagine how glad I was to find you." He whispered through closed teeth."

"I'm sure you are. You're lucky I came down when I did or you'd have to dance another song with her!" Michaela giggled. It felt like such a long time since they were together, relaxed. Michaela turned around and glanced behind her once more as Joseph positioned them on the dance floor. "Do you think I'm truly adorable, or do you think she's just saying that because she seems to be incapable of doing anything but laugh and squeal while she is around you?" Joseph laughed.

"Oh, she's telling the truth I'm sure. Why not? Her words are true. You are adorable this evening."

"Oh that's good." Michaela rolled her eyes as they spun into motion, "because looking adorable was really what I wanted when I picked this dress."

Joseph smiled. Yes, of course that wasn't exactly the compliment that Michaela had desired for the evening. He was slowly realizing all the effort she had put into this evening, and couldn't help but wonder if there was more than what he was even aware of. "Well, one woman's adorable is another man's beautiful." Michaela blushed. "And I must say that the perfume adds a nice effect." The additional compliment made Michaela giggle aloud. It went a long ways in reaffirming her hopes for the evening. Perhaps all wasn't lost.

* * *

Ten songs later and Michaela was exactly where she had been a month before, sitting in the windowsill watching the flash of colors bleed across the room. She couldn't understand it. She did everything right, and yet here she was once more, standing on the outskirts staring into the scene before her. For someone who was used to being free and unhindered, the heaviness with which she seemed to sit was impossible. She felt like a sparrow with clipped wings, but there was nothing else that could be done. She certainly couldn't dance on her own.

Michaela summoned a smile at Miriam, who she saw glide across the room in front of her. That had been the last moment of hope for Michaela, when she and Miriam were talking by the window and Robert could be seen making his way to them. Both girls were certain that their effort had paid off and that he would ask Michaela to dance, but instead it was his sister that he was hoping for. After that, Michaela simply resigned herself to sitting in the window. She could still watch, at least, even if it wasn't as much fun as dancing.

"So are you hiding back here?" David Lewis, seemed to miraculously appear from the blue, like an answer to Michaela's deepest wishes, and yet, she blushed deeply and found herself hoping he'd just go away. It was somewhat embarrassing to be the girl who sat through the entire evening, and yet here she was.

"Well, I'm not exactly hiding, but it would appear that I'm doing a good job, wouldn't it."

David's inquiring look broke into a smile, the intensity fading into the sparkle of his chocolate eyes. "Punch?" He offered one of the crystal goblets he had been holding in his hand to her, and then moved in order to sit beside her. Staring straight ahead, he examined the view that Michaela had been privy to for the last hour and a half while sipping thoughtfully from his glass. "So, do you not dance or something?"

Michaela just shrugged, staring intently on the glass of yellow liquid balancing in her lap. "Actually I think dancing is quite charming. Father takes me when we go to dinner sometimes." A slight smiled tugged at her lips and David thought it rather adorable the way her finger traced the edge of her glass. Her eyes never looked up.

"Then remind me what we're doing all the way over here? The dancing's over there." He threw his head in the direction of the flow of people, turning his face at an angle so that Michaela was the only one that could see it. Slowly she looked up and shook her head.

"No one has asked me to dance yet," and then, narrowing her eyes at him. "What's your excuse?"

"Do I need an excuse?"

Michaela flicked a hand to the parameters around the room. "How many girls are out there who are your age? I believe you're supposed to be dancing with them. That's why you're here, isn't it?" David just laughed and shook his head.

"No I'm here, because of that," he motioned to Robert on another round across the floor, this time with Marjorie. "And because every socialite matron expects me to show up and at least pretend to be interested in their daughters. I danced a few dances, but the truth is, I'd rather stay here and hide with you." Michaela shook her head once more.

"But I said I wasn't hiding."

"I'm sorry, I don't believe that. You must be having to fight the boys of left and right."

The thought of being an object fought to be danced with made Michaela laugh. Somehow, the visual just didn't fit, and yet part of her wished it were true as she rolled her eyes and mumbled, "you must have a fever. You're delirious."

"O come now. Let me see the card… come on." David leaned over her, reaching for the leather booklet clipped to her cuff, but as he reached one way, Michaela pulled the same direction, keeping the distance between them.

"No… no…" she laughed, pushing him back, but in the end, he was victorious and turned himself away from her.

"See, it's just what I thought. You've been taken by for all of them. This S.G. fellow must be something." He handed the booklet back, rather smug as he watched Michaela flip the book open to see the tiny pencil markings made next to each song.

Dropping her hands to her lap, she gave him an annoyed looked before adding, "What did you do." However, David merely continued his charade.

"You know I bet he's heartbroken, no wonder we're all the way over here."

Michaela was at a loss for a comeback, and instead chose simply to sigh and whisper, "I can only imagine." The charade was fun, somehow the true disappointment of why she was sitting alone faded away and she surrounded herself in their verbal spar, a game of make believe that kept her on her toes. Judging by the way David was chuckling he was thinking much along the same lines.

David couldn't help himself, he saw Michaela smile, for what was perhaps the first time of the evening since the dance with her father and he couldn't help but be a little pleased with himself. There was just something about her that made him want her to be ok. He had watched the pass year as Marjorie came rushing into Beacon Hill like a whirlwind, making beaus and commanding attention that Michaela used to have without the least bit of effort, but what was more was that Michaela didn't fight back. She simple sat herself down, watching as everyone who was like everybody else allowed her to feel peculiar and on the outskirts as though she had an incurable disease. However, it was simply those peculiarities that made his new friend even more interesting, and in his eyes, even more deserving of a smile. David was tired of dancing with the tightly laced doll like girls for the evening. He actually would like to have a little fun for the evening. Leaning over in Michaela's direction, he spoke in mock discreetness out of the corner of his mouth, eyes scanning for the mysterious "S. G." while he did so.

"So, if I was to steal a dance from this secret admirer, would it be a waltz or the quadrille?"

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_There it is! Hope you enjoyed it! If you did, let me know… I'd love to hear from you!_


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

Rain tumbled from the heavens, falling leisurely toward the earth and soaking everything in sight. Water pooled on the tops of the street lights, rolling over the blurred glass before skimming down the smooth iron frame and splashing against the cobblestones, sending miniature replicas leaping up as if in an attempt to escape before returning to its parent. The sky was a drab grey, covered with large clumps of darkened fluff.

As dreary, though, as the world seemed to be outside, Marjorie's world couldn't shine any brighter. The constant drumming of raindrops across the roof of the carriage provided a rhythm with which the grumble of thunder sang along, and Marjorie couldn't help but add her own little melody on top of it all. The carriage continued to bounce over the cobblestones, splashing through the puddles and sending shards of rainwater cascading into the air. Marjorie however was oblivious to all, including the two other figures who sat with her in the carriage. She clasped tightly to the gloves lying across her lap, thinking only of New York and the bright shining sun shimmering across the lake not far from Sarah's house. She would be there, with her friend, before nights end, and this thought was what turned the gloomy city that was Boston into her bright haven.

"Marjorie? Marjorie." A hand at her knee broke Marjorie's concentration, pulling her back to the dim carriage. Slowly, she turned her eyes to her father, as she realized that it was he who had been calling her name, directing the attention of both him and Michaela, toward her expectantly.

"What?"

"You have your extra gloves, and the wraps that Claudette gave you for Christmas?" Marjorie nodded her silent answer, distracted instead by the sight of the train station growing before them.

They had barely stopped before Marjorie was reaching for the handle of the carriage door, unable to contain her excitement. She gave no consideration for the fact that she would be soaked to the bone in seconds after leaving the protection of the carriage, nor did she stop to think about the men and women who hastily travelled in and out of the station under the cover of black umbrellas. What would propriety say of a damp sixteen year olds who ran out of carriages and into train stations? Instead, it was Joseph's hand on her arm holding her back, quietly demanding the he be the first one from the carriage while commenting in his wise voice, "Let Harrison get here with the umbrella first."

Inside the train station wasn't much different. Marjorie led the way from platform to platform, fingering the tiny ticket in her hand. Joseph was left trailing behind, carrying a brown leather valise in one gloved hand and the umbrella in another. He broadened his steps in an attempt to catch up to Marjorie's scurrying form, causing the tails of his over coat to trail behind, dripping at the ends as they did so. He never did catch up on his own, but was aided by Marjorie, who stopped abruptly and turned around.

"This is it." She pointed to a train car on her left, her smile widening and eyes glistening with pleasure. Joseph didn't think she'd smiled like that the entire time she had been in Boston, except for perhaps the night of her debutante. Turning his eyes to the train, he scanned the platform number and eyed the passengers getting on.

"So it is." He said with a nod. Somewhere in there, Michaela appeared by his side as if by magic, slightly out of breath for she had trailed even further behind than Joseph.

There was just a moment, as Joseph took note of the surroundings, examining people and the activity that was bustling along the platforms. As they stood there, another train entered the station, filling the building with the rhythmic clang of wheel against rail. The gears came to a sudden halt, locking the wheels and sending a screech through the air as a guarantee of its arrival. Marjorie looked to the train and back.

"Well, I suppose it's time for me to go." She started, rocking forward on her feet. Her words worked their magic, jarring Joseph into action with a sudden movement.

"Why yes, I suppose it is. Would you like me to accompany you on the train and get you settled?" Marjorie shook her head.

"I'll be fine. It's only a few hours to New York and the conductor will help if I need anything." Joseph nodded.

It seemed to Michaela, who stood watching the interaction of her family quietly, that there was something that Joseph was trying to tell Marjorie, something he was trying to find the words for, but just couldn't, or perhaps he was biding time. Michaela wasn't sure, but she did know that his mind seemed a million miles away, as if it had already reached New York ahead of Marjorie.

Marjorie turned her attention to the valise her father held in his hand, also feeling the strangeness of his disposition this rainy morning. "May I?" She lifted her hand out.

"Yes, of course. You would be needing that, wouldn't you?" With a tight smile that spread under the thick waves of his grey-brown beard, he held the valise out, sifting its weight casually from his hand to her, pausing, as Fathers do, at the moment of transition to be certain the weight was not too heavy for his daughter.

"So, I'm going to get on now." Marjorie announced, shifting her gaze from Michaela to Joseph and back.

"Have a safe travel, and enjoy Sarah's company." Joseph seemed to break from his trance long enough to offer a few kind words. "And I think I'd appreciate a telegram once you make it to New York, to let us know you are safe."

Marjorie nodded at his words. Was this all there was? Somehow, she thought leaving home would be much harder. It always seemed that Sarah was talking about how she never really wanted school to start; she always wanted to postpone it a week to stay with her family. This wasn't the case with Marjorie, though. Her legs were aching to climb the steps and settle herself into her seat for the trip, but wasn't there supposed to be more?

In her peripheral vision, she could see a man disembarking from a train quickly to be embraced by a woman on the platform. Behind Michaela, were two children who were receive a constant shower of kisses by a man and woman who were carrying bags. Marjorie bit her lip. _Perhaps_… she stepped forward to Joseph and wrapped an arm around his shoulder in a quick hug before backing away. It had been the closest they had ever been physically since before she could remember, but she pushed it from her mind. Seconds after the embrace had ended she had forgotten the feeling of her father's hand at her back and the surprised but thankful smile he had given her. Quickly she turned to Michaela and added a kiss to her sister's cheek, who did all but recoil. (Michaela would later liken the peck to being kissed by a fish, wet and clammy.)

Taking a deep breath as if her duty had been complete, she smiled. "I'll write soon," and with nothing else she turned and boarded the train.

Though she took a seat on the opposite side from where Joseph was sitting, he and Michaela nonetheless waited until train had kicked to life, gears shifting, smoke bellowing, and whistle blowing its intent before they turned to leave. The train passed them in a blur of speed taking Marjorie away from Boston, her family, and her home. Michaela slipped her hand into Joseph's palm.

The city grew small behind Marjorie; the once strong buildings of Boston became small and miniscule, as if they could blow over if the wind proved too strong. The grassy meadows soon replaced any visions of stone or brick and the rain stopped long enough for the sun to come out, shimmering across the freshly watered grass, making it look like a sea of green. It wasn't until now that Marjorie opened her valise and pulled the tightly sealed envelope out. Robert had given it too her the night before. _"For entertainment on your trip,"_ he had told her.

The envelope had been settled between the pages of her arithmetic book by means of keeping it flat. Quickly she'd pulled the paper out and with a swipe of her finger had shredded the top to reveal the letter left inside.

_Marjorie, _

_I hope it not to forward of me that I should write to you. I was hoping to get the chance to tell you what a wonderful time I had this fall, meeting you and getting to know you. There isn't a finer dancer in all of Boston, and I enjoyed the opportunity to be your partner on many occasions. I hope you do not choose to stay away for long. Return to Boston, even if for the summer. I should like to see you._

_Yours truly, _

_Robert Hathwell._

Marjorie lowered the letter to her lap, a pleased smile across her face. Turning her attention to the window, she considered the past few months. It hadn't been a complete waste, and she had enjoyed Robert's company very much. Scooting down in her seat so that her feet would reach to the cushion across from her, she made a mental note to write Robert once she arrived in New York.

* * *

Michaela's spoon clanked against the bottom of her soup bowl, signaling that there wasn't much left despite the growl of protest that her stomach made. With a thorough lick of her spoon, she dropped it next to the bowl and reached for her napkin. Dabbing the corners of her mouth, she glanced around the room. The tearoom of the Dryson hotel was tall and airy, with large sweeping windows and flowing drapes. The walls were lined with wooden panels and dozens of tables scattered across the room, most occupied by society women with their large feathered hats and dainty lace gloves sipping tea and eating cucumber sandwiches, and then there was Michaela and her father, sitting at their favorite table next to the window that overlooked the courtyard.

Her eyes turned back to Joseph sitting across from her, sipping on his tea. "It's really quiet," she commented, watching the glass make the smooth arch back down to the table. Joseph looked up at her, licking his lips before smiling.

"I don't suppose I've been very talkative today, have I?" Michaela shook her head. "I apologize for that. I just couldn't help thinking about Marjorie going back to school. I've been wondering if it's right to send her so far away, if I shouldn't have tried to keep her closer."

Michaela reached across the table and took a piece of break from the basket. "But I thought she liked school?"

"So she does." Joseph tried to lighten his countenance into an affirmation of Michaela's observance, but something still bothered him. Part of him couldn't help but wonder if Marjorie liked school because of her friends or because of her distance from Boston. _I've done this; I've messed it up from the very beginning._ It was the realization that he had refused to let himself think until this morning. However, he somehow felt as if, by allowing her the trip to New York he had pleased her in ways he would never understand. There was nothing he could do now except turn his attention to the daughter he still had, sitting across the table from him chewing on her lip. "What's the matter?" he asked, this time, in the here and now as if waking from the dream in which he spent all morning. He tilted his head, considering Michaela's frowning eyes and wrinkled forehead worriedly. She looked up and him with uncertain eyes, glancing left and right she leaned over the table.

"Is it… is it ok to say that I'm glad she's gone?"

"Why would you say that?"

Michaela shrugged. "Things were different with her here. I missed it being just us."

Joseph sighed, thinking back over the past few months. Michaela had suffered from the change more than anyone else, between Marjorie's fickle temperament and lack of attention, her world had changed beyond recognition. How could she not be excited at the opportunity for it to go back to the way things were. "I can understand that." He nodded. "You've had a quite a few busy months, yourself."

Michaela's brow furrowed deeper as she reached across the table for another chunk of bread, "what do you mean." Joseph caught her hand mid way to the basket and tapped it back to her side of the table before reaching for half of the sandwich he had been nibbling on and laying on a plate before her. Michaela smiled sheepishly.

"Well, you've been to two balls, done a good amount of shopping for dresses, and seemed to have attracted enough attention to be the talk of the town." Michaela cringed. She knew that whatever talk there was of her, it probably wasn't good.

"I thought it would be fun to dress pretty for the ball and to do some dancing," she shrugged her shoulders while devouring a piece of lettuce that had fallen from her sandwich, "but no one seemed to notice."

"David Lewis seemed to notice. He wanted me to tell you how pretty your dress was at New Years."

Michaela couldn't help but roll her eyes. Somehow, David didn't seem to count, he was the boy that took her for a walk by the bay and had talked to her about his studies, but he hardly seemed like someone who'd notice her dress or hair, or anything for that matter.

"If he did notice, he was the only one."

Unable to hold off the question any longer, Joseph looked at Michaela directly, his hand thumbing the edge of the table. "What is this fascination about boys noticing, anyway?"

The question startled Michaela, and the little girl could feel her cheeks flush. _Boys noticing?_ Is that what she was doing? Somehow, she hadn't exactly thought of it in those terms, but now that her father had mentioned it, part of her recognized that that was precisely what she was doing. However, as soon as the realization of her true actions came, it was followed quickly that the recognition of something akin to disappointment in Joseph's voice. She felt a wave of embarrassment wash across her. Growing up, they had always talked about medicine and books, never boys or dresses, and although part of her enjoyed looking for her New Years dress, she couldn't help but feel that she shouldn't have liked it so. She had spent her entire life acting like boys, and despite, or even because of that, she and Joseph were very close. Was he upset because she wanted to be like a girl too? All the thoughts went rumbling through her head in a blur, realizing themselves to her for the first time and overwhelming her. She batted her eyes against the tears that were threatening to overflow. Shaking her head disjointedly, "nothing, it's nothing." She whispered.

Joseph was shocked at the drastic change in Michaela's face. Though he couldn't see the tears, he noticed an unidentifiable emotion spread across his daughter's face that left her reaching for her tea glass and glancing out the window as she drank. He wasn't sure what he had said or did, but judging by the way she avoided his stare, he knew that it shouldn't be talk about here, and so, setting his jaw, he made a quick decision, albeit right or wrong he would never know.

Pulling the napkin from off his lap, he laid it across his plate. "Well, if you are finished I'll take you home before I have to go to the clinic."

Michaela just nodded.

* * *

_There it is! I hope you enjoyed it, let me know what you think!_


	38. Chapter 38

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Chapter 38

Marjorie stepped down from the train, grasping tightly for the handrail to prevent any embarrassing falls, and giving the slight impression of a reluctance to emerge from the cozy warmth of her car into the coldness. As soon as her feet hit solid ground, though, she turned from the train, never to glance back. She grasped her bag tightly to her chest and looked around the station, searching for the familiar raven hair and smiling face, but she found nothing. The platform was so crowded with passengers boarding a disembarking from the train that Marjorie couldn't see anything. Instead, she disappeared into a sea of heavy coats and luggage.

Pulling her coat tightly around her shoulders, she began her march out of the train station, having set her eyes on the ticket master toward the front in hopes that he would be able to help. Pushing through the crowd, Marjorie heard a squeal of excitement come from somewhere in front of her though she didn't register this sound as being any different over menagerie of the other noises that filled her ears. In fact, as she kept her eyes trained on the ground, she didn't see the frame of the girl running for her until she had been enveloped in a thrilled and firm hug.

"I can't believe you came!" The voice rang out shear excitement. Marjorie, still having yet to see her attacker just giggled and tightened her grasp on the girl whom she knew was her friend.

"Sarah! I missed you so much."

Pulling back, Sarah held her friend out at arm's length. "Oh my, becoming a productive society lady has done you well! I'd say you seem much older since the last time I saw you." Marjorie rolled her eyes. "No I'm serious. You look very beautiful and _very _proper." Sarah emphasized the last phrase and smiled with a slight wink. That was the desire of every Peabody girl- to be proper, whether they were natural beauties or not. In Sarah's opinion, however, Marjorie didn't have to worry about the beauty part. She fell into that category hands down.

"Enough about me." Marjorie giggled, positively shinning from her compliment. "You're positively exquisite. Is this a new dress?"

Sarah blushed, "not really. I got it at the end of summer."

"Well then it's new to me. Do you realize how long it's been since I've seen you?" Marjorie laughed. Tears of happiness sprang to her eyes. She couldn't believe she was free! She was with Sarah and she'd be going back to school soon; she had miraculously survived the year and now life would return to normal.

"Oh, there's so much I have to tell you! I've been keeping a list of the things I didn't write to you. There are some things that were just too good to put into a letter; they deserved a personal conversation." Sarah happily let Marjorie go, so that they could turn toward the exit of the train station, but still maintained a death grasp on her friend's hand. "And you must tell me everything as well."

"I'm afraid there isn't that much to tell… What?" Marjorie reacted to the narrowing gaze Sarah proceeded to shower on her.

"I do believe that I have read the name _Robert_ more than once during our separation, and you must share! Oh and I was told by Benjamin to immediately give you a hearty welcome home the moment I saw you." Sarah hummed the fact knowingly. Marjorie just shrugged in an attempt to divert Sarah's excitement, but she couldn't resist the childlike smile that stretched across her lips. She opened her mouth to speak, but quickly shut it again as she saw a familiar man walking toward them.

"Marjorie!" The older man smiled a happy smile, his eye shining with pleasure.

"Mr. Clarkson, I want to thank you for your invitation."

"You are welcomed at our home anytime, you know that. I'm only glad that you and Sarah will have some time to spend together before you go back to school."

"I am too." Marjorie turned to smile at Sarah. She loved the feeling of welcome that pervaded the Clarkson family, and she never ceased to feel like she belonged with these people.

Mr. Clarkson reached down to retrieve the valise from Marjorie's hand before falling in line next to them. "Let's get you home where you can get warmed up and Sarah can fill you in on all of the things you've been missing." Marjorie sighed, utterly content.

* * *

Michaela went hurdling down the hallway, turning the corner of her bedroom with the aid of her fingers, curled tightly around her doorframe. She propelled herself onto her bed and landed in the fluff completely out of breath. Today had been wonderful, just like the way things were before Marjorie had ever come home. She had met her father for lunch, and they had spent extra time walking through the park, watching the boats go up and down the lake. Then, after he finished work, they had dinner and he had even indulged her in a game of chess (and was consequently surprise by the progress she'd made). Now, though, her bedtime was quickly approaching and she had ten minutes before her father came to read her nighttime story.

But the bed felt so good, she didn't really want to get up now again, and instead sunk further into the down. Staring up at the swirl of fabric draped into the center of her canopy, she haphazardly slid a few stray hairs out of her face, allowing her hand to brush under her arm, scratching at a soft itch before finding its place nestled to her side.

"Mike? Are you ready?" She could hear her father's voice echo from the bottom of the stairs. She let her eyes slid shut in utter contentment before answering.

"Not yet," She grumbled, rolling of the plush bedding and onto the floor, stopping long enough to pull her shoes and stockings off.

Martha had come in and lit a lamp not long after the sun had set, which now illuminated her room in a subtle glow and allowed her to move comfortably around without bumping into anything. Michaela eventually came to land in front of her floor length mirror, staring at her reflection with her hand poised at the top button of her bodice. She stopped, though, before she undid the button and let her arms drop to her side while she eyed her reflection. This morning when she had put her dress on if had been slightly uncomfortable, a little too tight around the bottom of the bodice where it flowed into the skirt.

Turning sideways in the mirror, she examined the place where her dress seemed to strain a little against the seam. With a finger, she poked at the fabric, feeling her skin indent under her touch, and knitting her brow together. She raised her gaze back to her own face, slightly puzzled. Michaela sighed, half heartedly, her hand moving once again up her body to scratch the persistent itch under her arm before returning to her original task of unbuttoning her blouse.

Quickly, Michaela shrugged out of her bodice, letting her dress fall to the floor. Once free from her confines, she shook her hips from side to side, enjoying the feeling of freedom. Her outer garment was soon accompanied on the floor by her chemise and her bloomers before she reached for her nightgown from the top drawer of her dresser and hastily slid it over her head.

"Good knight!" Michaela cried out, unwittingly taking on one of Marjorie's phrases as her underarm succumbs to another fit of itchiness. Trapping the rough fabric of her flannel nightgown under her arms, she ran her arm back and forth against her body in an effort to scratch the unrelenting discomfort, but was unsuccessful. "What is going on? Is it a rash or something?" she murmured off handedly to one of her dolls sitting on a chair next to the mirror as she unbuttoned the neck of her nightgown and pulled it down low enough to examine her arm pit. There was nothing except a little redness from her persistent scratching, no bumps, no bruising. Sighing her frustration, she jerked her neckline back up as the sound of a soft wrapping warned of the opening of her door and when she turned around, she found Joseph was standing in the doorway.

"If we wait much longer there won't be any time for a story before its bedtime."

Instantly forgetting her discomfort, she smiled as she finished the buttons on her nightdress. "I'm all ready." With a single leap, she found herself back on her bed, smiling happily back at her father leaving her discarded clothes on the floor.

"So, what is it you've been reading?" It had been a long time since their last bedtime story. The one they were working on several months ago had long been finished by Michaela alone, reminding Joseph that his daughter was well beyond the years where she needed a story to be read _to_ her and therefore the reading of one was just as much a privilege for him as it was for her. With a content smile, Joseph picked her book up off her nightstand and glanced at the title while he moved to sit on her bed. He had missed this.

Reclining against her headboard, Joseph opened his arms wide enough for Michaela to climb through before closing them around her in a firm embrace. Opening the book in front of them both, he began in his hushed tenor, "Chapter twelve…"

* * *

"Wow, Christopher, I do believe I've seen a ghost!" Benjamin Grisham's mock exclamation was filled with hearty laughter. He energetically jumped to his feet while reaching down to clap his friend, who remained seated on the bench, on the back. It was a sunny day, exceptionally so for a cold winter day, but the sun's rays radiating to the earth coupled with the lack of wind easily made most forget that it was even cold outside. It had been a difficult day to spend inside studying, but made the Friday afternoon all the more beautiful once class was over.

Benjamin, who had been waiting in the park with Christopher for almost an hour now, smiled down the pathway as he saw two familiar figures walking toward them.

"Benjamin Grisham, you better hush." Marjorie called out with her own laughter, "You make it sound as if I'd died or something."

"I thought perhaps you might have. What was your father thinking, keeping you all the way in Boston for so long?"

Marjorie just smiled as she and Sarah reached the boys. My, it was such a long time since she had seen them, and all the fluttering and excitement returned just as it always had done. It had been a week since school had started once more, and things couldn't possibly be going any better. Perhaps what they say is true: absence does make the heart grow fonder. She enjoyed being back in Hartford; she enjoyed unpacking her things into her room and fixing all the trinkets. It felt as if she had never been away from Sarah, and Marjorie was even enjoying the company of some of the other girls. It seemed in part as if they were nicer to her, more patient and interested in what she had to say. Sarah said it was primarily due to the fact that Marjorie was a woman now, having officially come out to society, and many of them admired her- especially some of the younger girls who seemed to hang on her every word. In fact, with all of the things that were going right, Marjorie could only think of one downfall to being back in Connecticut- Robert was still in Boston. She had been true to her word and written him several times since she had returned to school, always very interested in what was happening with him. However, now standing in front of Benjamin once more, she was completely swept away, forgetting the events of her coming out and the many calls from Robert she had entertained while in Boston.

Had Benjamin always been this handsome? He had gotten taller since she had seen him last, and his dark hair had lightened slightly, entertaining golden highlights while the sun gleaned off his hair. His eyes were just as dark and piercing as she remembered, but now were offset with addition of a slight goatee on his chin- still a little scruffy and small, but large enough to look presentable.

"Benjamin Grisham, I do believe you've gotten a haircut since I saw you last." Marjorie tilted her head to one side, considering the close-cropped mane that lay smoothly against his skull. She smiled at him, a smile that ran much deeper than the shallow teasing of her words before her eyes tilted away from Benjamin's face toward the boy whispering softly to her friend. "Hello, Christopher."

Christopher's eyes shot up from their fixated place on Sarah's face and smiled at the recognition. "Hello, Marjorie. I'm glad you've finally been able to return to us, Sarah was missing you dreadfully." Sarah lowered her face in a blush and Christopher raised his hand out in which Marjorie silently pressed her fingers into for a genteel gesture. Quickly, though, her attention turned back to Benjamin as she moved to take his arm. Together, the two of them turned down the paved walkway with Sarah and Christopher trailing not far behind.

"You must tell me of all the gossip, everything that's happened."

"Well…" Benjamin searched the year for any bit of information that Marjorie craved. "The Christmas dance wasn't the same without you this year." Marjorie laughed. "Oh and you would have enjoyed it too. Wouldn't she, Christopher?"

"Huh? Oh, yes, I suppose she would have." Christopher's half-hearted answer seemed not to withhold the same excitement as the voice who posed the question. Marjorie didn't seem to notice the change in tone, though, and instead turned excitedly to Benjamin.

"What happened?"

"Well, let's just say that Kathleen Roberts is not longer being courted by the ever popular Jason Carrington." Marjorie gasped her delight.

"What happened?"

Benjamin shook his head. "That I don't know. You might ask some of the girls." Benjamin threw his gaze to Sarah, strolling behind him.

"Oh no, Marjorie, do be gentle with her. It must have been horrifying. One day she was talking of how she might have a ring by spring and then the next day Jason was telling her that she wasn't the type of person he was looking for in a wife." Marjorie's eyes grew wide.

"Did he say what it was he was looking for that she fall so short of his desire?"

"Not that I'm aware. All I know is that Kathleen didn't go to class for a week, she seemed heartbroken and probably slightly embarrassed from the entire situation. Everyone was so certain they would be married."

Marjorie turned back to Benjamin, not registering the last few lines of compassion that Sarah whispered for Kathleen. Instead, she pulled tightly on Benjamin's arm, "I'm sure he was looking for someone who could keep her little mouth shut when necessary," she grumbled under her breath. Only Benjamin heard her and replied with a smile.

Marjorie brushed off the disturbing news with a shrug of her shoulders. "Oh never mind, perhaps now she'll realize that perfection should not be bragged about. How does the saying go? 'Fate is a cruel mistress?'" Marjorie fell into a silent stroll next to Benjamin. Last year Kathleen had been a thorn in her side, she had been teased at every possible moment, and everything Marjorie seemed to posses was destroyed in the wake of Kathleen's sharp tongue. Now, things would be different; she was certain. Why, look at which one had the beau, and who must start over from the beginning? For a young lady who seemed the bane of her family, Marjorie was certainly was doing alright for herself.

* * *

With a great _fwop_ both Michaela and Miriam fell back into the downy softness of Miriam's bedding, both too stuffed to move.

"I wish you'd spend the night more often. Then I'd get breakfast in bed every day!" Miriam exclaimed, sighing with deep satisfaction. Michaela, laying her hands across her belly simply groaned.

"Nancy spoils us too much. Martha would never let us do anything like this." She reached over with her leg and ran her toes along the long smooth edge of the silver tray, now sitting empty with only a few crumbs for proof that anything was ever there.

Miriam yawned and stretched her arms over her head. "What do we want to do today?"

"We could go to the park… or the library. I don't know. Father said he wouldn't get off at the hospital until at least four, so we have all day to do whatever."

"Oo," Miriam rolled onto her side so that she could look at Michaela. "I like the library idea. I bet Mother would let us take the carriage."

With a great deal of effort, Michaela rolled from her comfortable position in order to stand straight. "I don't know…" she lifted the window sash to peer through the pane, "it's so pretty outside. It might be nice to walk."

"Whatever you want." Miriam followed Michaela's movements and found herself skirting the edges of the bed. "What dress did you bring?"

"My brown one. I thought it would be the warmest if we play outside."

"It'd certainly be perfect for a walk. I think I'll wear the blue one. That would look nice together: my blue and your brown." Michaela smiled; somehow Miriam always managed to think of these things and Michaela was never quite sure how. Her dress selection had depended on warmth and Miriam's on color. Michaela couldn't help but feel that the enthusiasm with which she had pursued being more girly had fallen away after the lack of results she had received from the ball, and she just couldn't muster the desire to try as hard anymore. Whether this fact made her sad or not she was unable to decide. What she did know, however, was that something felt different, but she couldn't place what it was. She couldn't understand why she felt so strange, and really couldn't seem to care overtly about anything. Heaving a sigh, she pulled her nightgown tightly across her body, feeling the fabric scrap against tender flesh. She turned to Miriam, who had already shrugged out of her nightgown and stood at her dresser pulling at a clean chemise and drawers.

Michaela watched her friend for a moment, wondering slightly if Miriam ever felt as strange as she did, or if she was alone in the bizarre world. She watched Miriam pull on her clothing, which fitted her body just as it should. There didn't seem to be any places where the seams pulled too tight. Miriam didn't seem to have any uncomfortable itching or self-consciousness, and suddenly Michaela felt insignificant both for comparing herself to her friend and also for finding that she came up short. However, as insignificant as she felt for the moment, her curiosity, her desire to know without a doubt if she was all alone made her pose a question aloud.

"Do you ever…" Her sentence began before Miriam had turned around, but now that she was staring back at her, Michaela couldn't seem to find the words she wanted. "Have um… any…"

Miriam's eyes raised in interest. Did she have any what? "Yes…?" She had never seen Michaela Quinn speechless before, and she had to admit that it was quite humorous.

Taking a flustered breath, she glanced around the room, as if the china dolls were intruders who were unwelcome in their conversation. "Do you ever have any… sore spots?" Her words were almost a whisper as her hand made a slight gesture about her chest. Miriam's eyes got wider, leaving Michaela wondering what she had said wrong, but before she could retract her question Miriam had turned toward her dresser and pulled out another mysterious item.

"I had it all the time until Mother gave me this. She had that it would keep fabric from rubbing against the sore spots." Miriam turned around with the contraption in her hands and held it out to Michaela. "You can have this one if you'd like. I have another one." Michaela took a step back, eyeing her oddly. "It's not that bad one you get it on. I can show you how to do it."

Michaela's eyes fluttered from the object to Miriam's smiling face and back. Was this a joke? Yet, she knew by the look on her friend' face that Miriam was deadly serious. Screwing her face up she considered the object once more. Well, it couldn't hurt, and if it was suppose to help…

Michaela however was still unsure as she moved forward and pulled the garment into her hands, fingering the coldness of the hooks and silky satin. Once she had given it a thorough going over, she looked up at Miriam who was waiting patiently.

"What is it?"

"It's called a corset."

* * *

There's chapter 38! I hoped you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think?


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

The early morning light filtered in through the slits of Michaela's bedroom window, sending alternating angles of light and shade splaying across the opened armoire door. An irritated grumble of frustration sounded in time for a stray dress to fly from behind the shelter of the oak paneled door, landing in a heap on the floor. It wasn't the only garment that had been so forcibly removed from the armoire, in fact, there was a mini trousseau of discarded dresses, petticoats, and chemises scattered across the carpet.

When she found herself staring only at her ball gowns, Michaela turned from her armoire with a huff. She had managed to don a chemise, drawers, and one petticoat, but it was proving nearly impossible to find anything else. "Is this all?" She grumbled to herself, slamming the door with a loud crack as she realized that her dress for the day would have to be selected from the now mangled garments she had already written off as hopeless.

She reached down and picked up the first dress she laid her hands on… a soft green cotton ensemble… that she couldn't pull over her hips. Another dark brown day dress would fit, but the buttons that lined the front of the bodice gapped, and her favorite dress of all time, a dark blue walking dress her father had brought back to her from one of his November Trips felt like it was going to cut her in half at the waistline.

"Arrggg!!!" Michaela cried out, scooping several stray fabrics into her arms and depositing them on the bed. She then bent and reached for the individual pieces, throwing them one after another in the general direction- allowing herself to become more frustrated by the way her hair fell across her face and obscured her view. "This is impossible!" With a yank on her petticoat, she pulled it from its usual position where it sat at the top of her hips to higher on her waist, allowing her more ability to move and bend. She could only find one petticoat to fit, and that wasn't even her winter wool, but at the moment, she couldn't care less. She'd just have to freeze.

Finally, reaching the last dress lying at her feet, she pulled it over her head and managed the buttons up the front before turning to the mirror. The dark maroon fabric stretched tightly across her body, almost skin tight before flaring wildly from her waist, and stopping just short of the customary 4 inches from the ground. Any shorter and her ankles could be plainly visible peeking out from the top of her walking boots. She stretched her arms out in front of her, watching the way her sleeves pulled up at her wrist, but the bodice was too tight to give her the usual range of mobility She wouldn't be able to reach her arms above her head, or above shoulder level for that matter.

Michaela popped her hip out to one side as she continued to examine her appearance in the mirror. Shaking a stray hair from her face, she pulled angrily on the front of her dress, trying to make more room for herself, but it did nothing and Michaela was left fighting the angry tears that pressed against her eyes and forehead.

"You look stupid and ugly." It may not have been that she actually believes those words at the moment, or it might have been she did, but somehow saying them aloud was the physical manifestation of her aggravation of the morning, like not being able to get a decent dress. Now she was five minutes late for breakfast, her hair wasn't even complete, and she still had to put stocking and shoes on and she couldn't bend. She was uncomfortable and unhappy and she just wanted to go back to bed and not have to see the world for the day. Unfortunately, for her, that wasn't an option.

"Michaela Quinn breakfast is ready an' if you're not down here by the count of three it'll not be waitin' on ya." Martha's call from downstairs sliced through the air, sounding, though as if she were standing right next to Michaela, leaning over her shoulder with a disapproving glance. Michaela frowned; hair, she still had to do something with her hair.

Turning for her vanity, she threw her bedroom door open and shouted into the empty hallway, "I'm coming," before ducking back inside to brush her hair.

Long hair is never a particular easy thing to care for, especially for Michaela who tended to leave it down while she slept and often forgot to brush it after she washed it. However, on this morning, it was proving to be a veritable rat's nest and after five minutes, she still hadn't managed to get the tangles out. In fact, if anything the mass grew bigger encompassing her hairbrush in a fine frizz that proved impossible to fight. Defeated, she dropped her hand and stared emptily in the mirror. It was really the icing on the cake that made all prospects of the day hopeless, but just as the world became amazingly grim, a rap on her doorframe sent sunshine spreading into her bedroom.

"I decided I'd better come up in person to save you from Martha's wrath." Joseph stepped into the room, smiling. When he saw his daughter, however, sitting at her vanity, chin resting in the palm of her hand and a hairbrush dangling from her tresses, his smile fell, partly because he could feel the gravity of the situation and also to prevent himself from laughing. "My goodness what happened?"

Michaela shot him a glance from the corner of her eyes. "I thought I'd wear my hair like this today, what do you think?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. Joseph merely remained silent, quietly observing his youngest daughter's form while absorbing her words as well. In the pregnant silence, Michaela heaved her sigh of defeat and wiggled in her seat. "I think I need more dresses." Her words weren't so much of a command as they were a reluctant admittance- the understatement of the century perhaps.

"What's wrong with the ones you have?" Only now did he move to her, standing behind her and gently taking her shoulders into his hands. He eyed the pile of dressed heaped on the foot of the bed through her mirror.

"They don't fit," she grumbled, lowering her head. Joseph glanced down at her hands, fidgeting in her in lap. He could see plainly that the edges pulled up at her wrists, making her look all the more uncomfortable and adding to her sullen mood.

"I'll see what I can to about remedying that problem, but first let's fix this problem." His hands moved to grasp the hairbrush and loosen it from its trap. Once he had it safe into his own hands, he began to smooth her hair with the monotonous strokes.

Michaela sighed once more, looking toward him in the mirror. She was slightly ashamed of the way she had acted this morning and everyone was waiting on her. "I can to that Father, I'm sorry that I'm late for breakfast."

"Shhh." Joseph hummed. "Just take a deep breath and close your eyes." Michaela followed his instructions, letting the silence seep into her body, as his strong hands worked their way through her hair, successfully completing the task she could not. She could feel the anger and aggravation seep from her body, and beneath her calming breaths, she could hear her stomach growling.

* * *

The clamor of breakfast filled the first floor of Ms. Peabody's. Marjorie could hear it all the way from the bottom of the stairs and knew that she was a little late, but that didn't matter at all. She could make her grand entrance to breakfast; she looked terrific this morning.

The days just kept getting better and better for Marjorie. She had arrived to school with a few dresses short of a brand new trousseau and each and every one of them looked amazing on her. She was slowly premiering them, careful to coordinate her favorite dresses with days that she knew she would see Benjamin or had an excuse to go into town. The girls would "o" and "ah" over her outfits, dishing compliments left and right, and this morning would be no different.

All eyes turned to Marjorie as she entered the room, a few mouths dropped, a few lips stretched into tight smiles, and Marjorie thought she could hear a faint sigh float from some of the younger girls (whether this actually happened or it was all her imagination shall be left up to one's own opinion).

"Hello all." She sang into the room, swaying her shoulders to one side in a mock act of modesty. Her grin seemed to shine.

"My you look pretty this morning." Lillian whispered with a smile, taking a sip of her tea glass. Kathleen rolled her eyes at the end of the table.

"You must be seeing Benjamin today." Alanna observed; if at all possible Kathleen recoiled even more. Whereas Kathleen used to be the grinding thorn in Marjorie's side, she'd barely said two words to the Quinn girl since her return to school. Sarah quietly considered that it was probably because Kathleen was reluctant to turn the attention to what Marjorie had for fear everyone would notice how much she, herself, was missing, but Sarah was reluctant to point this out to Marjorie. She knew her best friend very well, and knew the pointing the fact out would merely make it a fore front issue in the ongoing battle between Marjorie and Kathleen.

"Actually, Sarah and I are going into town to see if we can find something to go with our dresses for the Valentine's dinner." Marjorie took a bite of her eggs as one of the girls at the end of the table gasped.

"Oh no, is it Valentine's already?"

"In a little less than two weeks." Another girl confirmed.

"I had no idea it was coming so quickly." The table dissolved into Valentines plans. Who would invite who to dinner at Ms. Peabody's for the night, and who had their beaus already planning something special. Marjorie, was content to sit and listen, smiling at the way Kathleen sank further and further into her chair.

"Well, you know anyone can come shopping with us if they'd like." Marjorie said with a smile, considering her nemesis out of the corner of her eye.

"Would you mind?" Alanna leaned over the table, eyes wide with wonder. "I must get a dress and I would love your advice. Everything you seem to pick looks exquisite on you."

"Oh, and I think new perfume would go over nicely." Lillian inputted. A few of the other girls nodded their heads in agreement.

"Well then that's perfect, I say all who'd like to come shall meet in the parlor after classes and we'll leave from there." Marjorie glanced down the table at the myriad of faces turned toward her, nodding. She felt the excitement rise within her, the same type of excitement that she felt at her coming out. It was the flutter of being the center of attention, of having all eyes looking at her, waiting on her to make her decision and to complete her next action. After seven months of fighting her way out of Boston and her father's overbearing personality, now she was finally back at school, and things couldn't possibly get any better.

* * *

There's 39! I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know if you did!


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

Little Randy's giggle vibrated in rhythm to his bouncing motion as he leaned forward, clutching merrily to the knee he straddled. He bobbed his head from side to side and squealed as the knee made an occasional movement out of line of its usual straight up and down motion, leaning to one side or the other, threatening to pitch him from his seat. He never fell, though. Although this fact was primarily due not to the little boy's balancing abilities, but to the strong hand that held firmly to the collar of his pajama top.

Gradually, though the knee slowed, much to Randy's disappointment. Special Mornings, like today when visitors like Grandpa interrupted the normal activities of the morning, need not end anytime soon, and so, with a frown of determination, Randy bounced himself on his "horsey," whispering "Giddye up," as he did so. Like magic, the galloping commenced, sending another shrill of giggles bubbling from the little boy.

"What's so funny?" Joseph laughed at his grandson's joy. He let go of the little boy's collar long enough to catch him under the arms and lift him into the air before settling the boy against his own chest. "Hum?" Randy said nothing, but instead nestled himself into the crook of Joseph's arm, sneaking a thumb into his mouth, looked up at the older man with his dark hazel eyes. His eyes glistened with happiness and imagination. Ultimately, though, he was distracted by the familiar rustling of fabric that announced the presence of another figure in the room.

Turning his eyes to the figure dressed in navy, he smiled, pulling his thumb from his mouth. "Mamma," was all he said.

"Hello darling. What are you and Grandpa doing?"

"Boun-th-ing." Rebecca smiled at the lisp. She remembered bouncing quite well. It had been a favorite with all of the Quinn children and grandchildren at one point in time. Somehow 'grandpa's' knees were impossibly strong, never for an instant alluding to the fact that they could possibly fail- which they never did.

"Well, that's a fun pre breakfast romp." She reached out and pulled him up from his position to set him on the floor, adjusting his pajamas as she did so. "Why don't you run upstairs and let Linda help you get dressed?" She turned the little boy in the direction of the doorway and tapped him on the rear to get him started.

Once her son was finally out of the room, Rebecca turned her eyes to her Father, who was still reclining comfortably in the chair. "My knees aren't as young as they used to be." He said with a huff, indicating slight breathlessness.

"Umm, no, and Randy isn't as small as he used to be, either." Rebecca hummed, moving toward the tea tray that had been left next to the sofa; she poured two cups, dropping a lump of sugar in one before turning around.

"They grow fast don't they?" Joseph's words were wistful, holding a double meaning that indicated he wasn't just speaking of his grandchildren, but his children as well. "Imagine what it'll be like when he starts courting." His lips stretched to a tight smile.

"I'm not even sure I want to think about it, yet." Rebecca laughed, handing off one of the cups before taking her own seat.

"That's perhaps wise. Enjoy them at this age." Joseph's eyes were piercing with silent contemplation as he nodded in her direction. He was looking directly at her, though Rebecca was uncertain of whether or not she was seeing her. Something was on his mind, something big enough to have prompted his visit before he headed to the clinic this morning, and anything that important meant it had something to do with Michaela. It had been a little over a month since Marjorie left, and Rebecca had gotten the feeling that though Joseph and Michaela had fallen back to their old habits with one another, there seemed to be something of a strain between the two. Joseph had never said anything directly on the matter, but Rebecca had noticed the lines of strain that tugged at his eyes- they were a different types of strain than what Marjorie had place there, but they added to the collection nonetheless.

"Hhhmmm." Rebecca hummed, holding her cup to her lips and enjoying the warmth radiate against her face. "Soon they'll be growing up, like Michaela." She ventured the conversation that she knew needed to be had. "Her birthday will be next week." It was a simple fact stated, but it meant so much. Michaela would turn twelve, after that came thirteen and soon they'd be planning another debutante.

"Yes, actually." Joseph's entire demeanor changed with this side of the conversation, obviously his attempt at diverge the meaning of Rebecca's words to something less powerful. "That's what I wanted to talk to you with. I was planning another trip to the opera, and I was hoping you would take her for a dress."

"Oh certainly, It's actually beginning to become fun to shop with her." Rebecca nodded vigorously.

"I'm glad, because I think that she in need of a new wardrobe all together." Joseph frowned. "She's claimed that none of the dresses she has fit anymore, and I'm inclined to believe her. She's never been the vain type to require the latest designs, and what I have seen her in looks rather uncomfortable."

Rebecca's brows furled in wonder. "She's growing that fast?"

"Oh and that's not all, she has seemed to stay in a constant mood this past week. She fusses with everything, her hair, her clothes, even her studies. Last night she threw her arithmetic book against the wall because she couldn't figure out a problem."

"Ooohhh." Rebecca nodded in understanding, drawing the vocalization out as she did so. "Twelve," she murmured as if it answered all the questions of the world.

"Yes," he sighed, his hand reaching to stroke his beard. Somehow, they had made it here, having been alone together in their own private haven for seven years. They were close, virtually indestructible, but for some reason he'd thought Michaela would be immune to all the frustrating changes that had turned most of his daughters into incredulous beings, who failed to complete a thought outside of their own person. She wasn't.

"What are you planning to do?"

"Help her with what I can. Make sure she's comfortable in her wardrobe and things like that, but if her temper continues for too much longer I may have to say something."

"Let's hope it's not like that. Everyone is entitled to their bad days, or weeks, aren't they?"

"Indeed, she is." Joseph nodded. It was true enough. In fact, it was something adults dealt with on a daily basis, and he had been unrealistic to think that Michaela would be an immortal being with a perfect disposition at all times. There would be good days and there would be bad, and he sincerely hoped the former would out-number the latter.

* * *

The clock in Joseph's office struck twelve, notifying no one in particular that it was lunchtime. A loud rattle, blended with the methodical chiming as the loose doorknob turned timidly, via unseen hands on the other side of the door. Slowly, a crack emerged between the door and the wall, through which Michaela stuck her head, shifting her eyes from left to right. There was no one there.

Biting the inside of her lip, she considered what to do next. Should she just sit and wait or go in search of him? All of that depended on what he was doing at the time. If he was simply seeing a patient he should be back in no time, really, but if he were in surgery… Michaela's eyes grew wide at the thought. If he were in surgery it would take much longer for him to be free for lunch, "and I need to know such things," she whispered to herself, admitting in her mind that she'd also like to see the surgery itself. She tugged absent mindedly on her shortened sleeve, thinking for a solution, but she didn't have to come up with one on her own. It was provided for her.

"I'm afraid your father has one last patient before he's ready to go." The friendly alto interjected, turning Michaela from the door. Maria, who seemed now and forevermore a permanent fixture of the Quinn/Benton practice walked by with a hand full of charts.

Michaela's eyes betrayed her disappointment. "Oh, I was afraid he might be in surgery," but Maria just clucked her tongue.

"Oh come now, you were not. If anything you were wishing for it." She commented while not looking up from her charts, though she strained her eyes at the corners so that she could see the little girl blush.

"Well, it's been a while."

"That is has." Flipping a chart closed, Maria now turned her full attention to Michaela. "I've not seen you around these parts lately."

"There hasn't been much time around the house."

"But that's all changed now, hasn't it?" Michaela nodded. Yes, it has, but it still felt very different, though she wasn't sure why.

Turning her attention away from the older woman, she struggled to change the subject in hopes that the unexplained tears springing to her eyes wouldn't overflow. "May I go and wait on him?" She whispered. There was a long silence.

Michaela wasn't sure what Maria was doing, and she was afraid to look to see. Instead, she trained her eyes on the comfortable chair that sat facing the heavy oak desk. Soon a whisper of confirmation wafted to her ears, "of course you can," and Michaela, without looking back, mechanically entered the room.

She sat, pulling a stray medical journal into her lap as she did so. It felt strange not to have anything in her hands, or filling her eyes with images and words, but she didn't see what she was opened before her. She stared at the words that lined the top of the article. _Rates of Influenza among Children Kept in Asylums Compared to those of the Inner City Slums._ Michaela hardly recognized the meaning of the title, or considered why it would be lying open on top of the desk. Instead, her mind drifted to Gilda, Jacob, and little Tiffany at the Sacred Heart. It had been so long since she went with Father to see them. Surely, he was due to see them soon.

Michaela was lost in thought, considering how much Tiffany would have grown compared to the last time she saw her. Really, she must be talking well now, and walking even better, and Michaela was certain that little Jacob would be so tall she wouldn't recognize him. In fact, she was so caught up in imagining these things that she failed to hear the footsteps enter the room behind her.

"I apologize for running late this afternoon. If you give me a moment to write a note, I think we will be ready for lunch and perhaps have an even longer lunch than usual." Joseph entered the room and skirted the corner of his desk to sit with a smile.

Michaela smiled slightly, closing the journal and laying it on the corner or his desk. "When's the next time you're going to the Sacred Heart?" She asked, "I think I'd like to go with you and see Gilda." She didn't recognize the change of expression cross her father's face as he dropped his pen back into the ink well. She was too busy fingering the side of a wooden anatomy doll standing on the corner of his desk. .

"Michaela," Joseph started, watching the little girl intently. He hadn't prepared to deal with this so quickly. When Michaela didn't respond, he reached over and tapped the edge of the desk with a hard finger, drawing her eyes to him. "Michaela," he commanded once again, "come here. There is something I want to tell you." Obediently, as if now only recognizing the solemn face that replace the great smile from earlier, she rose and moved around the desk. Her eyes never left his.

"What's wrong?" Joseph spun away from his desk and made room for her to stand between his legs. He wrapped his arms around her waist in a half embrace. "Is everything all right?"

"It's about the orphanage. They've had a hard difficult winter."

Michaela's brow lowered, somehow weary of what was to come. "Difficult how?"

_There's no use making it easy for her, Joseph. It's something she must know. _"There was an outbreak of Influenza at the beginning of January. A lot of the children got sick."

Michaela fell silent, suddenly fascinated by her father's neck kerchief. She thumbed the fabric while struggling to gain the courage to ask her next question, and when she did speak, she sounded not like a soon to be twelve year old, but a very little girl. "But everyone is alright…"

Joseph sighed, _no, they're not._ "Actually a lot of children passed away."

Her hands dropped, as well as her eyes, "Oh."

"Jacob and Tiffany didn't make it."

Michaela felt every muscle in her face tense in retaliation to the pressure that bombarded her from all angles. _They didn't make it? They did… they didn't make it? _And there was only one thing she could think to say. Not that it made any sense, or was appropriate for the situation. It was just the only strand of words her mind could put together, "Was it because they were orphans?" Her words came out as a squeak. What was Gilda thinking right now?

Joseph, tightening his arms around her, he pulled her in closer to his chest. "No," he whispered. "it is because that no matter how good a place like the Sacred Heart tries to be, it is no place for a child to grow." Michaela sniffed against his shirt, to which he automatically reacted with running a hand down her back. "But you know that I'll take you back for a visit if you'd like." There was no sound, only a slight shake of curls. "Ok," his words were a soft hum, thinking slowly as he decided what to do next. It was already twelve twenty. "Ok," he repeated, "why don't we have lunch at home today?" He was answered with a harsh sniff and a nod.

* * *

There's chapter 40! I'm so excited guys! I hope you liked it. If you did, let me know!


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41**

The enthusiasm with which Michaela had shopped for her New Years dress was completely gone. It took Rebecca less than five minutes with her little sister in the dress shop before she realized that they were back to the same rhythm. Michaela, carelessly fingering fabric bolts, and flipping half heartedly through fashion plates (not even getting through a third of the book before she moved on to something else) wondered aimlessly around the store, and despite Rebecca's efforts, she couldn't seem to engage the girl long enough to get an answer.

"Do you have any ideas of what you'd like to wear to the theater?" She had ventured the conversation, but only got a slight shrug and Michaela worriedly chewed on her lip.

"I'm not sure what I want. Something simple I suppose." _Simple?_ Where had simple been two months ago when they were discussing cuts and sleeve lengths? Rebecca considered the girl standing in front of her, staring intently at a display of handkerchiefs as if her life depended on it. It just seemed like intense melancholia, not too unusual for a girl her age, but strange for Michaela nonetheless. Rebecca slowly ran her eyes down her sister's length, there were also other signs, signs not usually noticeable but aided by the way her dress fit. Father had been hinting in the right direction, Michaela was right on the cusp of some big changes.

As Rebecca was contemplating all of the information she was now taking in, Michaela happened to look up, startled by her older sister's intense glance. She blushed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing," Pursing her lips together in frustration of being caught in her consideration, Rebecca turned her eyes to a rack of dresses. "Has Father told you what he's taking to so see at the theater?"

Michaela shook her head, "he said that it was going to be a surprise."

"Oohh." Rebecca drew out her sigh, rolling her eyes in humor, as if there was secret excitement in the unknown. Her efforts were rewarded with a little smile. Somehow, Rebecca was beginning to wonder, if it wasn't melancholia, but that Michaela had just somehow managed to construct a shell around herself without anyone around her realizing what she was doing until it was too late.

Rebecca took a step away from the rack she had been thumbing before turning her gaze to Michaela, back to the swaying garments, and then Michaela again. How did she begin this? She wasn't sure where or how to start. She hadn't had the pleasure of having a daughter yet and her boys were still young. "Hmm," she hummed to herself trying to make a decision. "You know, why don't we get you measured first."

Michaela's expression turned from timidity to surprise as she crossed her arms around her waist. "Measured?"

"I thought we may start with a new wardrobe. Father said most of your old things don't fit anymore." Michaela's blush deepened, feeling all the bigger in her dress. _Most of your old things don't fit._ Michaela knew that that was Rebecca's way of being nice, _none _of her clothes fit, and she wasn't sure why, but she knew that it wasn't normal. Silently, Michaela allowed Rebecca to usher her over to a stern looking man standing at the back of the store in his shirtsleeves with a ribbon of measuring tape wrapped around his neck.

The measuring session lasted all of six minutes, and was probably the single most humiliating thing Michaela had ever experienced, even in light of the encouraging smiles Rebecca constantly insisted on showering on her during the time. There was the measuring tap at her waist, her hips, her arms, her shoulders, and with every pull of the ribbon, she was certain she could hear the tailor cluck his tongue in disapproval. _Stretching the ribbon out, are we?_ She could almost hear his groan of disapproval and, thus was thankful when he stepped aside and allowed her to hop down from her box. Instantly she gravitated back to Rebecca.

"Is this all we need to do?"

"Well we still want to find a dress for the theater, don't we?"

"Can't we just have him make one? Really, I don't care what it looks like." Michaela pleaded almost desperately. Her brows were raised and knitted together and she looked at Rebecca with such insecurity that Rebecca wanted nothing more to take her out of the store and away from whatever it was that unsettled her so, but that wouldn't answer any questions. Wrapping her arms around her little sister, she tucked Michaela into her side, turning them toward the front window where a few dresses hung on tailor mannequins.

"Do you know? I'm almost positive that we can find a dress that will look exquisite on you. You're getting to the age where a lot of things are changing, and your body isn't the same as it used to be."

"Ok." Michael mumbled. She wasn't sure what to make of Rebecca. It was becoming increasingly obvious that her sister was trying to do something, or tell her something, but all she was getting is that her body no longer looked the same as it did before. She knew that much. Wasn't that the reason they were there in the first place? However, somehow the idea that this all was associated with her age sparked something in her mind, tucking itself away for later use, but right now she couldn't control the blush spreading across her cheeks as Rebecca added her last bit, "Once you have a few dresses that fit it'll be easier to feel pretty again."

Michaela flinched. Was she that obvious? Embarrassment waved over her as she began to feel that this afternoon of shopping was orchestrated by several adults in hopes of making her feel better. Was she really so self centered that she needed heaven and earth to be moved for her? Michaela didn't want to think so, but the evidence would prove otherwise, and suddenly she couldn't help but think of all the other things Rebecca should be doing right now instead of babysitting her: there were the boys, Valentine's plans, running a house of her own; Michaela was ashamed that she claimed so much of her sister's attention.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" An older woman, matching the tailor in disposition and appearance seemed to appear from behind them, distracting Rebecca from her conversation, for which Michaela was thankful.

"We were thinking about a new evening dress for my sister, but I'm not sure what we have in mind." Rebecca answered with a smile, sending the woman's scrutinizing gaze to crawl over Michaela's form. She pursed her lips together while she thought.

"I have a dress in the back that we fitting for a dinner party of some sort, but after the fact she decided she wanted something different. I think it may look rather nicely on you. Would you like to see it?"

Rebecca's eyebrows raised so high Michaela thought they'd possibly recede into her hairline. "Oh I think that would be nice, wouldn't you Michaela?" Michaela forced a nod.

"Just a moment then, let me retrieve it from the back."

As the older woman scurried off Rebecca turned hopefully to her sister. "See? It's just as I said. You're going to be beautiful for your birthday." Michaela didn't have the heart to discount Rebecca's grin of pleasure. She was trying so hard and Michaela refused to verbalize her hesitation, and concern with the way things were developing. She didn't want to worry Rebecca by telling her, that she wasn't sure if she would ever feel pretty again and even when she did feel pretty, no one else ever seemed to notice, so it really didn't matter to begin with. Right now, her world just reached ahead of her in an endless stream of small dresses and poor hairstyles.

Forcing a smile over her face, Michaela pushed her thoughts as far away as she could. "Thank you Rebecca." _It really means a lot that you care so much._

"Here we go," the woman appeared from behind a curtain, holding the dress up for view. She began talking while she was still at the back of the store, making her way over too them. "It's a royal blue color which I think, would look beautiful on you, especially with your eye color. I think if anything it may be a little big in the bodice area, but that's easily fixed." Coming to stand in front of them, she held the dress out.

Michaela had to admit that it was beautiful, the way the color shimmered in the light. It was longed sleeved with decoration around the shoulders and carried across the bosom. Michaela couldn't help but reach out and touch the fabric. "Why don't you try it on?" Rebecca suggest from behind as the woman shifted the hanger from her hand to Michaela's. She stepped aside and pointed to a small room where she could change.

Inside the protection of the dressing room, Michaela began to undress in the quiet, her thoughts shifting from place to place. _Your body is changing_. Michaela thought of Rebecca's words as she worked the front buttons of her dress. What exactly did that mean?

Dropping her dress at her feet, she stared at her figure in the mirror. She had known that she was growing, perhaps (though she didn't want to admit it) gaining weight, but was there something else. Placing her hands on her waist, the tightened her fabric around her midsection. There was a different shape to her body now, one subtle enough that she hadn't really taken the time to notice. Her waist pulled in tightly before scattering out at the curve of her hips. That's what the problem had been, where she had gained the weight that made her dresses fit tighter. Tilting her head in scrutiny, she turned to the side pulling her undergarments tighter.

She started at the top, her head and face, nothing much had changed, her arms were thinner, and longer if she believed the story her dresses told- the same appeared with her legs, and across her front there were too soft, barely visible, mounds of flesh where there used to be nothing but flatness.

Chewing on the inside of her lip, Michaela turned back to the mirror. _Your body is changing_, this time she repeated the words to herself, confirming the truth of Rebecca's statement, but somehow this provided for more questions than answers.

Hearing a soft rap on the door, Rebecca timidly called in to see if Michaela needed help. "No, no I'm fine. I'll be out in a moment." Releasing her hold on her chemise, she reached for the blue gown waiting patiently in the corner.

* * *

With the promise that at least three of her new dressed would be done by the next week, Michaela had returned to the house on Mount Vernon street toting a box tied with a piece of black ribbon. Inside, neatly folded, lay her royal blue dress, smooth and crisp, and Michaela dared not put the box down until it was safe and sound at the bottom of her wardrobe.

Rebecca had been right, somehow putting on the blue garment cleared her mind, and she felt herself truly smile for the first time in a week. She had stood in the dress shop, twirling around in the mirror in order to stare at herself from all sides. It fitted so smoothly across her body, not straining or stretching in any areas, that Michaela forgot what it felt like to be a giant, and felt herself melt into comfortable union with her body. For the first time since New Years, she felt pretty, and didn't care whether or not she looked it.

Once she made it home, Michaela went straight upstairs to tuck her box away. Yet, all that had transpired that afternoon continued to play itself out in her mind forming more and more questions that she wished she could ask Rebecca, and yet every time she opened her mouth, a blush clutched her cheeks and she found herself changing the subject.

They were stupid questions, _ridiculous _questions, ones that Michaela thought she should already know, things she felt silly for asking. Of course, she knew what a woman looked like- she had seen many diagrams in her father's medical books. She understood the function for most parts of a woman's body and knew the scientific purpose of breasts. She knew all the whys, but not the hows. She didn't know how these things came about, what it felt like. Was there something she was supposed to do differently? Her hips had gotten bigger, though that was more of a nuisance than a worry, but there was one thing that she hadn't dared to speak aloud, to Rebecca or Father (the very thought of a conversation such as this made her want to hide under her bed sheets). For the past couple of weeks, she noticed that the itchiness that has begun in various parts had led the way for hair to grow in strange and new places.

She'd lie in bed, thinking, wondering about it many nights, and spent her days trying to think of something else. She found herself wondering about the ladies she passed on the street, wondering if other women were like her, and yet having an intense feeling in the pit of her stomach that they were not. It somehow seemed so… ugly and inelegant for the beautiful women she met every day.

Only today, after Rebecca made her comment that suggested that Michaela look at herself through the film of her father's medical books, did she get an idea to help answer her questions, and that is how she found herself, leaning against the door to her father's office.

Pressing her ear to the door, she knew that her father was not inside, though he was home, somewhere. Perhaps he was upstairs preparing for dinner, or in the parlor, taking the opportunity to enjoy a book that was not related to his work: a rare feat. It didn't really matter where he was, Michaela just didn't want to have to explain to him, what it was she was looking for.

Gently turning the knobs, as if afraid that a stray creek would echo through the house, alerting someone to her presence, she cracked the door wide enough to slip inside, but no more. She made her way to the shelves that lined the walls behind his desk. He always kept the books he used the most, closest to his desk, and worked out accordingly. She had a slight idea of the book she was looking for; though, she didn't know the name, but she could see the drab grey cover as clear in her mind as if it were in her own two hands.

Moving around behind the desk, she sat down in the floor, her skirt fluttering into a pool as she ran a finger over the well-worn spins. Michaela bit her lip in concentration, until she finally found the shade of grey she had been searching for and with a quick tug, found it in her lap. Opening the book eagerly, she searched quickly for the chapter in the index before locating it in the broader text. For some reason her heart thudded in her chest as if she were committing a crime that shouldn't be witnessed for the strong retribution that it would cause. Though there wasn't anything wrong with her presence in her father's study for she was welcomed to go wherever her father could go in the house, or her actions, simply researching a medical book.

She flipped to the chapter, and instantly encountered the diagram of a female. Michaela paused enough to examine the figure, to take note of her curves and other parts of her body that Michaela could recognize as being different from her own. After some consideration, she turned the page, scanning the myriad of diagrams and words. With each passing page, Michaela became more and more disheartened when she couldn't find exactly what it was she was looking for. Finally, she shut the book and returned it forcefully, pulling out the book that sat next to it.

Shifting, so that she sat on her bottom, she pulled her knees up to her chest and cradled the book against her thighs, bending over the pages as she read. After a moment of searching, she found brief mention of developmental issues. Thoroughly intrigued, she read and reread the four paragraphs, hoping to glean any information that she hadn't seen before. She was so focused on her task, that she didn't hear the door creak open behind her.

"Mike?" Joseph's voice pierced Michaela's concentrations, making her jump as she struggled to flip away from what she was reading. She looked up at her father, who had stepped around the edge of the desk and stood watching her, with wide eyes making her look like the two year old who happened to be caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Hi Father." She struggled to smile while she shut the book and attempted to reshelf it. All she could think about was getting the heavy object out of her hands.

Joseph watched Michaela's reactions, the way she jumped, and fidgeted with the edge of the books she held. "What are you doing?" Concern filled his eyes as he took a few steps in her direction.

"I um… I was just looking at something." She paused, checking to see if that was enough of an answer, but knew instantly by the way her father's lips disappeared behind the cover of his ever-graying beard that it wasn't enough. "I just thought of something while I was at school the other day, and I thought, I'd look it up."

"What about?" Joseph took a few steps to his daughter, reaching an arm out to help her up from the floor; all the while Michaela was searching for something, anything to tell him and finally settled on a question that came to her just before sleep the night before.

"How would you go about treating Influenza?" She rose up and took her father's hand, pulling herself to her feet. Joseph breathed an audible sigh, lifting his eyes to the view out the window as if seeking for inspiration before turning back to Michaela's raising form. He forced a smile, not a happy smile, but a gentle lift of the corners of his mouth.

"Why don't we have this conversation over dinner? Martha says it's ready."

Feeling slightly confident that embarrassment had been evaded, and that there would be interesting conversation over dinner tonight, she nodded, noting the way her stomach growled. "All right." She would have to return to the books later.

* * *

_There is Chapter 41! I hope you enjoyed it!_


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter 42**

Michaela sat on the floor in front of her fireplace, her feet tucked underneath her, and her nightgown stretched to cover her legs. Her head was bowed over her clasped hands and she squeezed her eyes shut tightly.

"Dear God, please be with Gilda, wherever she is, and whatever she's doing. Let someone come for her and take her away to a safe place where she can be happy." Tears sprang to her eyes, as they did all the other times she had thought of her friend these past few weeks. Inside she felt a sense of desperation for Gilda, a sense of hopelessness knowing that the siblings in which Gilda had taken so much pride had been removed from her care. "Please God, please, please don't let her feel all alone…" she sniffed abruptly as a tear ran its track down her cheek, and her words shifted her attention from Gilda to herself, "please don't let me feel alone." She whispered, opening her eyes, completely at a loss of what to do next.

She just sat there, waiting, wondering if God would answer her prayer and take the heavy darkness that was sitting on her chest. The fire in the hearth danced and flickered merrily, creating a warmth that nipped at her eyes and dried her tears, but did not make her breathing any easier. "Please." She whispered once more, but nothing happened. Her mind, as it had on many occasions turned inward, transversing darkened corridors of worry and fear.

Never before had she felt so separate from the world before. Father, who always shed light into her life, seemed a dim beacon on the horizon. She didn't know how to get to him, or reach him. She wasn't sure if she wanted to. There were so many changes that have been surrounding her, things that worried her and for the first time, Michaela found herself incapable of telling him what these were. They had shared so many things, but after New Year's something had changed. Michaela could remember vividly sitting across the seat from her father at their restaurant, nibbling on the edge of his sandwich while they talked. _What is the fascination about boys noticing anyway?_ Michaela could see the mixture of curiosity and disappointment written across his face now; bringing back questions that she had once set aside.

Was it possible to be a girl and a doctor? Michaela wasn't sure; she had never seen anybody try it before. Her father never certainly gave any indication that it was impossible, but then again he never treated her like much of a girl to begin with. Well, he did she they went to dinner or dancing, he would offer her a chair and hold the door for her, but the things that they did on every day basis, play chess, talk about books and politics, study science, those were things that other boys did with their fathers, not girls. Though Michaela knew that her father loved her very much, she wondered if he still didn't wish that she were his son, his son that would go to medical school. But she couldn't be his son, because she wasn't a boy, she was a girl, and though she never used to consider this as making her different from anyone else; it did now. She was a girl becoming a woman.

She had found utterly nothing in the medical books. Even after Joseph was called to the hospital for an emergency, and she had sat in his office all night, she hadn't found one sliver of information that answered her questions. Part of her knew that even if she did learn the answers to some of those questions, there were others that would not be addressed. Why did women wear perfume? How did they wear their handkerchiefs up their sleeve without the fabric bunching into a knot? They were little questions, stupid really, both because of the unimportance of the subject and because that they were things all girls learned from their mothers. Miriam had learned, and tried to teach a little to her for New Years, though Michaela hadn't been quite as interested as she'd thought she was. Now she wanted to know, but she wasn't sure who to ask. Father wouldn't know the answer (and the things he _did_ know were topics she didn't want to talk about) and though Rebecca would be delighted to speak of such things, Michaela could imagine the way her sister's eyes would soften and her head would tilt to the side. She would pull her in to stand close, and answer all the questions, but the air of "oh poor darling" would fill the room and Michaela had little desire to feel unfortunate. Instead, she felt alone-like Gilda, which was ridiculous because she had so much more to be thankful for, but that was the reality, like it or not.

Michaela unconsciously twisted a piece of hair that had fallen across her shoulder as she stared into the fire. There was really only one person who she wished she could confide these things in, and it was the one person she couldn't have, or could she?

Rising from her position on the floor, she moved to the door, peeping her head over the banister to check for Martha's presence. The glow of lamplight could be seen radiating from under the stairs, the direction of the dining room, and Michaela knew that Martha was still in the kitchen. It would yet be a while before she came to tuck her in for the night.

Running her hand through the hairs at the base of her skull, she flipped the tasseled strands over her shoulder, as she turned to the door at the end of the hall. Michaela could really take this journey in her sleep; she had traveled it so many times after nightmares or excited Christmas mornings. Now, she moved it agitatedly, padding along in her bare feet and pressing against the door once she had reached it.

The light from the hallway illuminated her father's bedroom in a slant. Casting shadows across half the room with golden rays spilled into the rest, revealing part of the oversized bed, a dresser, and in the corner or the room, the empty vanity. Michaela entered without a backwards glance.

Reaching out for the heavy carved bedpost, Michaela felt the smooth etching, not having to stop to look at the slanted design in order to know what it was. Her eyes never left the vanity.

When she got to the edge of the marble top, she bent to sniff the surface, hoping to get a whiff of any degree of her mother. Her movements looked like a bow of worship in front of a Greek shrine, acknowledging the presence of what was once there but had since past, yet hoping that it would return again.

Gingerly sitting on the stool, Michaela considered the pictures before her. She couldn't remember how many times she saw her father look at these pictures, or the one sitting on the corner of his desk downstairs. She had even seen him talk to them, as if he were talking to the woman behind the glass frame, and not an image of her. She remembered one time in particular, when he had come in late from the hospital. She had been waiting, unseen, for him to get home and stood at the entrance to his office door watching as he told her mother about the little baby that had died in his arms that night. Somehow, that scene never felt strange to her.

Reaching for the picture standing in the back of the collection, she pulled it into her lap, examining it carefully. It was the family photograph, the last one taken with everyone together. Running her finger over the smooth glass, Michaela examined her mother's face. She had never noticed how beautiful it was before, how young it still seemed to be, even after five children. Elizabeth Quinn was tall and elegant, and she looked every bit those graceful wives that Michaela saw at the theater and balls. _She would know. _She thought to herself, _she would know everything._ Crossing her arms over her chest, she trapped the picture into a firm embrace, sincerely wishing that at that moment, she could talk to her mother

* * *

"Alanna Forsythe, you wouldn't!" Emily Buchannan giggle, rolling onto her side and curling herself in a fetal position. Her arms covered her head just in time for an oversize feather pillow to come crashing down on top of her. When the pillow was removed, Emily could see Alanna's smiling face. "You're so mean!" She cried through her giggling. The noise mingled with Alanna's laughter as well. In fact, it was infectious to everyone.

Marjorie looked up from the top of Lillian's head and shot an inquisitive look over her shoulder, a broad smile stretched across her face. "What is going on?" She laughed, seeing the way the golden strand of blonde streaked across Emily's face, frizzing into a giant fur ball.

"She said that Simon would mistake me for a frog if I wore by green dress to the Valentine's Dinner!" Alanna exclaimed, swinging a pillow at her friend once more for good measure. There was no anger or hurt in her words, just the enjoyment of playful teasing.

Marjorie turned back to Lillian's head and the strand of hair she held suspended between her hand and the mass of curls she had already pinned. "A frog?" She jested, pinning the strand with a force the caused Lillian to cringe. "Well then why don't you wear my cream dress and I'll wear my powder blue." She shot Alanna a pleased smile through the mirror as the other girl stood up straighter.

"Really? You would do that?"

"Why not, I can't wear more than one dress at the same time, can I?"

"Oh, oh! You're so wonderful!" Alanna bounded across the room, skirts shaking left and right as she threw her arms around Marjorie in a tight embrace, an embrace and nearly knocked her into the back of Lillian. Shrugging slightly, Marjorie smiled a smile that stretched her cheeks so much it hurt. There was a light air inside her that she couldn't explain, but she had never felt so… content before. Then again, never before would she be the one receiving such an embrace from Alanna. She had to admit she liked the new companionship that she had found among the girls of Ms. Peabody's.

A swift movement across the room to sit in the chair next to the vanity where Marjorie and Lillian were, reminded everyone of Sarah's presence. The ever-smiling girl, whom everyone adored, placed her folded hands on the edge of the vanity and leaned in.

"If you're going to wear a dress aside from your cream one, may I suggest the pink tulle? I think it would be very Valentines." As she spoke, Sarah reached over and caught a loose strand that had fallen from Lillian's head, in a second she had repined it to its proper location, giving Marjorie a slight nod.

"Really? You think the pink would be better?"

"Oh that would be lovely!" Emily echoed from where she still sat on the bed, though she was in the process of trying to extricate herself from her entangled skirts in order to join everyone else at the vanity. "You always do look so elegant in pink." Marjorie gazed intently on the last few pins she was attempting to place, as far as she could remember, she'd never worn pink to any of the Peabody functions, in fact she didn't believe she'd ever owned anything pink until this past winter.

"I'm not sure…" She said stopping slightly as she put the finishing touching in place, the last of which was a glass hair comb just above Lillian's ear, "I've never been too fond of pink. You don't think it would be too cliché with it being Valentine's Day?" She moved her hands to pat Lillian on the shoulders, a sign that she had completed her task.

"Of course it's not too cliché, and even if it is, it's not like the boys would notice. They hardly pay attention to anything we wear."

Lillian, leaning in to examine her new coiffure looked up through the mirror, "then why did I just spend the past forty five minutes letting Marjorie practice on a style to wear to dinner?"

Alanna bent down and draped her arms around Lillian's shoulders. "It's not like we won't notice. We'll all think it's beautiful, and that Marjorie did a phenomenal job. That coiffure is so you."

Sarah too, reached over and placed her hand on the crook of the Lillian's elbow. "Besides, I'm sure at least one of the boys will notice your hair, it's too beautiful not to."

There was a pause, and then Lillian, beaming, straightened. "You really think so," her hand traveled up the back of her head, feeling the intricate designs etched there. All girls nodded in silent unison.

A soft knock on the door, set each girl her own way. Emily and Alanna returned to the bed, while Lillian began to pick through her hair, deciding what she liked best and what she wanted to change, Marjorie leaned over her, trying different angles here and there, and pinning where she was told. Sarah, not having to move from her seat, called for the visitor to enter.

One of the house girls walked timidly into the room, carrying a silver tray before her as if preparing for an offering. Her eyes searched the floor and never rose from their position as she spoke. "M…m… Miss Marjorie? There is a letter." Her voice was a timid squeak.

Marjorie wheeled from her position next to Lillian, eyes wide, shock written across her face, "Me? Why whoever from?"

"I don't know ma'am." The girl swayed in discomfort. She didn't like to have questions asked of her. It seemed like an eternity before Marjorie retrieved the letter from its position and dismissed the girl, who had since entering the room seemed to have had worried a hole in her bottom lip.

"What is it?" Lillian questioned, trying to sit tall enough to read the letter Marjorie had released from the envelope. When she unfolded the paper, two rose petals fell into her hand, sending each girl into a gasp. Marjorie considered the petals for a moment, feeling the smoothness under her thumb before handing them to Sarah, who took them eagerly.

"Well, what does it say?" Emily whispered, afraid to speak to loud, least she break the magic that had fallen across the room.

"Um… its says…." Marjorie's voice contained the same little hush until, finding her determination, she cleared her throat. "It says," she repeated, louder this time.

"To_ See a world in a grain of sand_

_And a heaven in a wild flower,_

_Hold infinity in the palm of your hand_

_And eternity in an hour._

Miss Quinn, I would be honored if you would give me the pleaser of being your escort for Valentine's this year. BG."

A collective sigh echoed through the room.

* * *

Michaela watched as the blades of grass beneath her grew larger before her eyes. It was breathtaking, the speed with which the ground rushed at her, closer and closer, warning that she turn away, least injury factor into the equation. At the precise moment that perhaps she couldn't wait any longer, her motion curved across the top of the earth and swung up to the other side. Her vision was replaced by the blue sky.

The wind blew her hair.

There was no better feeling than swinging in the back yard, and Michaela liked to go high, much higher than any of the other girls who had preceded her. Joseph always wondered if some day she wouldn't push the old swing to its maximum capacity, sending both her and her seat crashing to the ground. Even Miriam warned against it now, as she sat on a bench under the shade of the house, her bonnet securely fitted to her head and a drawing pad in hand.

"Michaela…" Miriam warned, eyes frowning at her friend, as she once again swung high into the air.

Michaela didn't want stop; she just wanted to keep on swinging as if she could go so high she could fly away. Then she'd never have to think about anything ever again.

"What?"

"Come down, let's go inside."

"And do what?" Michaela huffed, all the while slowing her swings in compliance with Miriam's request. Dragging her feet across the grass, she finally landed at a suspended lull.

"I don't know. Why don't we go inside and look at the things for your birthday. Have you picked out all of your jewelry and everything?" Michaela just shrugged. "Michaela Quinn you're birthday is in two days! Two days! And you are telling me that you haven't even decided what to wear with your dress? Have I taught you nothing?" Miriam laughed in jest. Bouncing up from her seat to stand in front of Michaela, who hadn't quite managed to look up. "Michaela? Michaela, you are going to wear the blue dress, aren't you?"

Michaela finally pulled her eyes from the ground and managed a soft, albeit sad smile. She nodded, "oh yes, it's really pretty. I need to show it to you."

"No, wait." Miriam held up her small hand and pressed it into the side of Michaela's shoulder. "What's wrong?" Her eyes narrowed on Michaela's face, as the other girl squirmed a little on her seat. Crossing her hands in her lap, Michaela pulled her shoulders together, looking as though her chest was collapsing and that, if she tried hard enough, she could actually touch her shoulders.

"It's nothing." Miriam crossed her arms over her chest, waiting. "Really, it isn't. I've just been in a bit of a mood recently."

"About what?"

_I'm so confused. _"Stupid stuff." Once again, Michaela shook her head. She felt ridiculous that Miriam had notice anything at all. There wasn't anything her friend could do to help, so why should she worry? Michaela diverted her eyes from Miriam, instead fastening them on the new growth of flowers that was trying to cling to the essence of life, to infuse the once dead remnants with color and vigor. When spring finally arrived, they were going to look lovely, lovely enough for a flower show.

"Do you and your mother still do the flower show with the Boston Ladies League?"

Miriam's eyes light up. Never before had Michaela shown any interest in the flower show, in fact, most of the time, she mocked the idea. Why was she showing interest now? Did she want to go with them this year? Miriam couldn't' think of anything more fun. "We do it every year, it's so much fun!" Miriam's enthusiasm threw Michaela off, but she smiled nonetheless.

"You're lucky…," she whispered, "to have a mother." With a sad smile, Michaela dropped her hands back to her lap, feeling slightly ridiculous for the way she was behaving.

Miriam's jaw dropped in sympathy for her friend. "Oh, oh." She whispered stepping forward to enclose her friend in a strong embrace. She hadn't even realized.

Michaela, felt the movement from above her though, and shifted suddenly, jumping to her feet, a smile spread across her face, wiping away all trace of sadness. "It's all right." She sniffed, batting at a stray tear, hoping that Miriam didn't notice. "Let me show you my dress." Without another glance back, she turned for the house and lead the way inside.

* * *

_Ok, so I wanted to say that the poem Benjamin used in his note was William Blake, and I also wanted to say Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!_


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43**

The birds were chirping outside Marjorie's window, announcing the morning as it spread across the horizon. It didn't wake Marjorie, though, for she was already awake, lying on her side, knees curled to her chest, watching quietly as the light from outside only got brighter and brighter. Today was Valentine's Day, and she hadn't slept at all last night.

It was too exciting, the unknown. Since Marjorie had received the invitation from Benjamin for today, she had become increasingly aware that there was something going on that she didn't know about. Benjamin was keeping a secret and Sarah was looking far too happy as each day passed for her not to know as well. Marjorie felt certain that Christopher had shared something with Sarah, and had spent the last three days desperately trying to figure out what it was, but Sarah's lips were tightly shut. Marjorie had to learn to just sit and be patient, a task that was nearly impossible.

Marjorie tightened the sheets around her shoulders, wiggling her feet free against the soft fabric. In the corner of the room, hanging on the armoire door, was two dresses. One, a plaid blue walking dress for the day and the other was a pink tulle evening dress, prepared for the dinner at Miss Peabody's that evening. The one certain thing Marjorie knew was that she was going to look spectacular today. At the edge of her dresser sat her iron curling rod, waiting patiently for one of the house girls to come in and start a fire in the hearth. Marjorie wasn't about to move until then, but once the warmth of the fire heated the cold wooden floorboards; she would have to start immediately. She didn't know when Benjamin would be here and she wanted to be ready.

It was eight thirty when Marjorie heard the house girl slip out of the room, shutting the door behind her and leaving the permeating warmth of fire in her wake. Marjorie threw the covers back. She hopped from the bed loud enough to cause Sarah to moan a little, rolling over as she did so and pulling the covers over her head.

"What are you doing?" She moaned from beneath the heavy blankets. "This is the one day that we don't have class and you're up at eight thirty."

"It's Valentine's Day! I have to get ready… and you do too, considering the fact that Christopher probably has something planned, too."

Sarah sat straight up in bed, "Yes, but that's not until…" She caught herself at the sight of Marjorie's widened eyes. With a subtle grin, she shut her mouth. "Oh no, no, not a chance."

"Not a chance, what?" Marjorie asked innocently, wrapping a dressing gown around her body.

"I'm saying not a word." Sarah tucked a stray strained of hair behind her ear and laid back in bed, angling herself so that she could watch Marjorie's movements across the room.

On her way to her dresser, Marjorie placed her curling rod in the hearth. "What do you think?" she asked, positioning herself before a mirror. "Should it be up or down?" She scooped at her long tresses and piled them on the top of her head, arching her back as she did so.

"It needs to be curled and high, like in the coiffure you tried on me the other day," came the sedated answer from the bed. Marjorie cocked an eyebrow as she tried to picture her hair with each of her dresses.

"Really? Will that look alright with the blue plaid?"

Once again dragging herself into a sitting position, Sarah nodded. "You can wear my blue butterfly hairclip if you'd like." She knew instantly by the way Marjorie turned toward her, mouth grinning broadly that her friend most certainly _would_ like. Reaching for her wrapper, Sarah skillfully pulled it on, protecting herself from the cold before she ever pulled herself out of bed. She stretched, and then smiling with her excitement, "let me help with your hair."

* * *

It was three o'clock in the afternoon, and Marjorie had long since established herself at the top of the stairs, sitting as close to the window that overlooked the front lawn of the school as humanly possible. She had her ankles cross and pulled back under her chair, and sat with a book in her lap, unread. By now, most of the girls who had plans for the day had left with their beaux and Marjorie was beginning to get worried. On the other hand, Sarah, who hadn't seemed to sit down all morning, didn't seem the least bit concerned, and Marjorie tried to hold her patience a bit longer. However, the task was becoming more and more difficult.

"Do you think he's forgotten?" Marjorie huffed, during one of Sarah's return trips from downstairs. Sarah, seemed little help as she clasped her hands behind her back and shrug her shoulders.

"Possibly." She said nothing more, but the glint in her eye told Marjorie, she needn't worry.

"Well what am I suppose to do, wait here all evening?" This day was not going as planned. Perhaps she should have taken Sarah's advice and slept later this morning.

"I'm sure you can find something to do."

"Like what?" Marjorie pouted, crossing her arms across her chest, as Sarah looked her over with a critical eye.

"Well, you could touch up your hair, it's looking slightly flat." Marjorie's face fell into a bland stare. Truly? Out of everything in the world, all Sarah could come up with was to straighten her hair. Sarah stared back wide-eyed, unsure of what more to do. She simply shrugged, but the movement was enough to prompt Marjorie from her chair.

"All right. All right, the hair it is." Marjorie disappeared into a room down the hallway.

Standing in front of the hearth, waiting on her rod to heat again, Marjorie ran her fingers over her head, searching for loose pins and falling curls. With a handful of straight pins, she tucked and secured her fresh curls to various placed around her head, certain to keep her style intact. After adding a little more oil to the top, she leaned over the mirror. _Well, that should do another six hours. Let's just hope that he gets here before then._

"How's the hair?" Sarah asked, swinging the door open to their room and marching over to her friend. She inspected everything with a close eye, reaching up to undo some of the pins that Marjorie had just made, but received no protest. After the hair, Sarah straightened the front of Marjorie's bodice and added just a touch of powder to her face before stepping back with a smile. Marjorie had simply stood still through the entire scene, slightly annoyed at being poked and prodded (partly because she was already irritated that Benjamin hadn't shown up yet) but not wanting to take her frustration out on her friend.

"Well, I think I look nice enough for you, but I want someone else to see me today." Marjorie whispered, slouching somewhat, and not recognizing how Sarah's smile broadened.

"Your wish is my command." Having been as mysterious as possible all morning, Sarah didn't see the need to ruin things now, and so she stepped aside, smiling at the sound of Marjorie's squeal, and let her friend run from the room, her skirt billowing out behind her.

Marjorie took the stairs two at a time until she got to the second landing, at which time she stopped, smoothed back her hair and straightened the front of her skirt. She continued the rest of the way in the most genteel manner possible, sweeping wide left and right with her skirts.

Benjamin stood next to the front door, gazing out the window. He didn't even see her come down the stairs, or, at least he pretended not to notice. Instead, he simply stood there, one hand in his pocket and another crossed in front of him. Marjorie stalled just a moment, not used to having to call for her own attention. Finally, she settled on clearing her throat, hoping that it would be enough to jar him from his thoughts.

When Benjamin finally turned around, Marjorie thought, that his entire face beamed upon seeing her. His smile brightened wide enough for her to see a rail of white teeth almost glistening in the sun like fresh pearls. "Marjorie." He breathed, his hand tightening around the stem of a half a dozen long stem roses.

Benjamin had spent weeks planning this evening, trying to nail down all the perfect little details that he thought Marjorie would enjoy, but now, seeing her standing on the stairs, all the planning completely vanished from his head. She was just so beautiful, standing on the bottom step, one hand holding on to the edge of the banister while the other disappeared into the folds of her dress. Her dress was long sleeved and buttoned to her neck, releasing the creamy white of her throat at the proper moment to make him wonder just how much was concealed under the dress. The idea brought a smirk to his face, a smirk that caused Marjorie to raise her eyebrows curiously, wondering what was going on in his mind. He took two steps toward her and, never removing his hand from his trouser pockets, bent at the waist before offering the roses up to her.

"I do believe this will make up for my not starting our day until three thirty."

Marjorie just eyed the red petals; he wasn't going to get off that easily. "Maybe… let's wait and see what you have planned for the rest of the evening."

Mock dismay swarmed Benjamin's face, "you mean flowers aren't enough? I thought that was all that was required." He got no reaction from Marjorie, just a warning stare making him laugh, a deep hearty laugh. "Well then let's see what I can do, shall we?" He transferred the roses from his hands to hers before turning to help her into her wrapper. As he draped the fabric around her shoulder, he leaned in closer to her, taking a deep breath of her perfume, and making Marjorie blush in the process.

"Where are we going?" she asked, bending her head away from his grasp. She walked to a table, and laid her roses to the side, turning back to him, once she had recovered herself.

"That, my dear is for me to know and you to find out."

* * *

Dusk had just begun when Marjorie found herself snuggled down in her open carriage for the second time that day. Her gloved hands clasped tightly under the heavy woolen quilt spread across her and Benjamin's lap. A bright smile of contentedness brightened across her face.

"Have your feet dried yet?" She asked, tilting her face to look at Benjamin from a slant. Her brow knitted together in worry and she scrunched her nose, looking like a small child who had just smelled something new, and was trying to decide whether the smell was pleasant or not. Benjamin chuckled, amused at her girlishness, and thinking back to the previous few hours.

The first surprise of the evening had been a stroll through the park, with an extra bonus at the end. When they came upon the backside of the lake that sat, nestled into the protection of the trees, Marjorie was welcomed by the sight of a little white row boat, complete with a interior stashing of chocolates, tea, and, of course, a parasol to protect against the afternoon sun.

"But I didn't think they allowed anybody to row on this lake."Marjorie exclaimed when she saw the sight waiting on her. She was answered by a sly grin from Benjamin.

"Well, they don't… usually, but they made an exception for today.

Benjamin helped Marjorie into the boat before climbing in after her, and pushing them off into the water.

"I bet you've never seen Hartford from this angle," Benjamin stated rather proudly, taking a few strokes with the oars before pulling them into the boat and moving in order to sit more comfortably next to Marjorie.

They sat like that for nearly an hour, nibbling on chocolate, and watching the people from the shore. At one point, when they floated close enough to see the carriage parked near the entrance of the park, Benjamin suggested they wave to the driver, who was standing next to the rig while the Peabody chaperone perched herself tirelessly on top, but Marjorie couldn't bring herself to such acknowledgement. It felt strange, somehow to know that all of those people were waiting on them for the day, as if they didn't have plans for their own Valentine's Day. It was awkward to know that she and Benjamin were being watched in their leisure.

_It's about five_, Benjamin examined his watch and, snapping the case shut looked at her with knowing eyes. "I think it's time to move to our next destination."

"Next destination? You mean there is more than this?"

"Of course, you'd think I'd stop as just an afternoon of rowing? My dear Miss Quinn what kind of gentleman do you think I am?" The last was said with hand pressed tightly to his chest in mock horror before moving for the oars.

Benjamin's eyes never left Marjorie's as he maneuvered them in the direction to shore. He watched her with a certain mysterious quality, as if he were trying to judge what it was she was thinking. Marjorie blushed under the stare, choosing to divert her eyes instead to the almost empty box of chocolates sitting between them.

"Would you like to share the last piece?" Marjorie asked anxiously leaning forward to the box. Holding on to the sides of the boat, she moved so that she could reach the last piece of chocolate. Blame her sea legs, or the lack there of for what occurred next, but the sudden addition of standing weight made the boat sway violently to one side. Benjamin, reacting to the sudden shift, grabbed Marjorie by the waist and pulled her down to sit at the bottom of the boat.

When she finally came to a land, on the hardened wood, Marjorie thought her heart would beat of her chest. She squeezed her eyes tightly together. _Oh, that could have been so much worse than it actually was_. Marjorie could just see the two of them pitching into the water over and over again. "Oh dear." She whispered.

"No kidding." Benjamin's voice appeared right beside her, huffing a little. When she opened her eyes, Marjorie saw an oar, slowly floating away from them.

"Oh…" Her countenance seemed to falter even more once she realized they were stranded, but Benjamin's arm at her shoulder steadied her.

"It's alright, we're only about six feet from shore, and it doesn't seem so deep here either."

In order to get them back, Benjamin had to wade through the water, pulling the boat behind him.

Later, Benjamin had just laughed it off, despite Marjorie's desperate pleas that she was sorry, and rather afraid he would become sick now. Once she had gotten over her mortification, she had to admit as well that it was a humorous situation, his shoes squeaking with each step that took them back to the carriage. By now, once again, on a journey through town, Marjorie could even laugh along with him, and so when she asked him if his feet were still wet, she held a slight glimmer of laughter in her eyes as Benjamin wiggled his toes.

"I think they're doing nicely, thank you." He whispered, and then the two fell silent.

Marjorie's mind was reeling. She couldn't seem to focus on anything other than how close Benjamin sat to her, covered under the blanket. She could feel every move of his arm, and the way his jacket shifted softly under each breath. She couldn't believe this afternoon; she was so mortified. Why hadn't it occurred to her that she couldn't stand up in a boat? It would have occurred to Sarah, or Benjamin, even Kathleen! Marjorie was surprised that Benjamin didn't throw his hands in the air and end it right there. Why try courting a girl so stupid, who was the reason that he probably ruined what was a very expensive pair of shoes, and muddied his pants… and froze his feet in the February air.

Marjorie sighed, turning her gaze on the passing people on the street. There were a few people walking, a little girl climbing into a carriage with her mother, and a several young boys walking down the street with a dog close on their heels. Everyone just seemed to continue with his or her task as if not realizing that it was Valentine's. Shouldn't everyone be home with their beaux and belles, having a romantic dinner?

Benjamin watched Marjorie closely, knowing that the tinge of read on her cheeks more than likely had something to do with their earlier escapade on the lake. He had to admit that it was rather adorable the way she was still clung to the incident with an air of guilt, but it truly was not necessary. If anything it gave him a good story to share Monday morning, but for now, he just wanted to pull her mind from its current musings. Slowly, trying not to bother her, Benjamin shifted up onto his hip, lifting his arm around her shoulders. He bent forward to whisper in her ear.

"So what do you think his story is?" he whispered soft enough for no one to hear him save, Marjorie, who blushed at his closeness.

"Who?"

Benjamin lifted his arm to point at a man who has just left a store with a bouquet of lilies. Now that, was the type of scene Marjorie had hoped to find for a day like today. Instantly, she recovered her herself from earlier, finding her store of nimble replies that always made her time with Benjamin so enjoyable. She leaned back into his embrace. "Obviously, he is trying to win the hand of a beautiful young lady."

"Oh really now?" Benjamin smiled slightly, closing the distance between them until he could feel her breath on his lips. "Does he succeed?"

"Ahem!" Before Marjorie could answer the question, an intruding voice broke their spell, reminding both of them of the chaperone sitting next to the driver. Marjorie immediately straightened herself under the watchful eyes of the older woman, disappointed at the interruption and the loss of Benjamin's warmth as he moved back to his side of the buggy.

When she finally found the courage to look at Benjamin, though, Marjorie simply found his charming smile. It was all a part of the game, sneaking moments here and there, trying to find seconds outside of the watchful eyes. It was exhilarating. Tilting his head so that a lock of hair fell over his eye, he winked at her. "We're almost there."

* * *

The buggy stopped in front of a large stone house, surrounded by tall oak trees and small bushes, trying to bud before their time. It was twilight when they stopped; the sun had long since disappeared under the horizon casting the world into a faint shade of blue. Two gas lamps, framing the door blazed a golden from amid the blanket of blue.

Marjorie, taking Benjamin's arm, took the time to examine her surroundings carefully before turning her face on her beau. "What is this place?"

Benjamin merely smiled, leading them up the front steps of the house. The front door opened like magic before them, and it wasn't until they were about to walk into the brightly lit foyer that he lowered his voice and answered her question. "This is my home."

The gentle hushed tone that Benjamin had taken in the presence of Marjorie vanished once they crossed the threshold; it was replaced with a jolly laugh as he made his way through the introductions. "Marjorie this is Jeter, the butler and Laura has vanished somewhere behind the stairs. This," he held his arm out to a timid older woman who appeared solemnly at the doorway, "is my mother." Feeling the pressure on her back, Marjorie moved forward and made a little curtsy before the older lady, bowing her head a little.

"It's such an honor to meet you Mrs. Grisham." The woman smiled, and her eyes seemed to glisten, softly.

"I must say the same about you. I've heard many things about you from Benjamin, but that isn't what's important now. You must be getting ready?" _Getting ready? _Marjorie instantly sought out Benjamin, who once again took her elbow.

"I believe you've already been introduced to those jokesters." He chuckled, directing her gaze to the stairs where Sarah and Christopher stood.

"Oh!" Marjorie squealed, meeting Sarah halfway on the stairs. She wrapped her arms around her friend. "What are you doing here?"

Sarah just smiled content to see her friend so excited. "Benjamin and Christopher have booked a table at the most elegant restaurant in town. We're to be there in an hour." Marjorie's hand instantly flew to her mouth to cover her gasp of excitement, and then a moan of horror when she realized. "I have nothing to wear!" Glancing down, she examined the wrinkled frock she now wore. There was no way under the sun that she could pull this dress off for such a fancy restaurant, but Sarah tugged on her hand.

"I have your pink dress. I brought it with us when Christopher picked me up for our afternoon."

"Oh, you're such a wonderful friend!" Marjorie exclaimed throwing her arms around Sarah's neck. She could see both the boys snickering at them over Sarah's shoulder.

"I think you two may need to hurry." Christopher stepped forward, teasing them with a gentle voice, "after all you only have an hour to dress."

It only took them forty-five minutes-

Which was actually very nice considering the amount to time it would take to get them from the house to the restaurant. Marjorie could barely contain her excitement. The afternoon had been splendid, but to be able to have such a wonderful dinner, and with Sarah and Christopher too, it was far too much.

Descending the stairs, she could see both of the boys waiting for them by the door. A goofy grin lopped across Christopher's face when he saw Sarah appear, dressed beautifully in her silk evening gown. When she came to a halt before them, he held out to her, a little porcelain barrette with a decorated rose carved to the top. Refined, yet tasteful, and Sarah's eyes beamed with excitement; she didn't have to say a word as a smile spread between the two of them. She turned to the side and let him slip the barrette into the folds of her hair.

Marjorie, watched the scene intensely, intrigued by the way not a word had passed between the two people standing before her, and yet they knew what to do instinctively. She wished she could be like that. Unfortunately, she was too timid; she second-guessed herself too much. When she saw the barrette, though a simple gesture, she couldn't help but feel a little pang of jealousy. That is, until she felt a velvet box press into her hand.

Marjorie turned toward Benjamin, who was watching her with a half amused smirk on his face. _What had she been so intent on?_

"What's this?" Marjorie whispered, feeling as if the magical spell that lay over the room would be broken if she speak too loudly.

"Open it and find out."

Inside the velvet box, amid the silk inlay, rested a diamond bracelet, shimmer and sparkling in the lamp light.

"Oh, oh Benjamin, I can't…"

"Of course you can." He prompted, reaching into the box and pulling the bracelet from its bed. With a quick _snap,_ he shut it again. "It'll look beautiful on you."

"But Ms. Peabody says a lady never accepts such gifts from a man who is not of relation, unless they are her intended."

Benjamin pulled her wrist in her his hands as she talked; taking no regard for what it was she was saying. "Well, then, you must tell everyone it was a present from your father." With a gentle tug, he situated the bracelet on her wrist, and leaned back for inspection, but as he gazed intently on her porcelain wrist, decorated now with the large shimmering jewelry, Marjorie couldn't take her eyes of the boy standing in front of her, and the ever-present thought that kept running through her mind. Is this what it felt like to be in love?

* * *

_Well, there is chapter 43 and it's the last time we see Marjorie in part one. So what do you think? Is she in love? I hope you enjoyed the chapter!_


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter 44**

It was February 15 and the sky was a magnificent blue. The air outside was light and cool; there was no breeze and the sun, now sinking low in the sky, was casting the only means of heated bliss across the surface of the earth. It was February 15 and the day was beautiful, but Joseph Quinn's mind wasn't in today. He was in the past.

There are certain moments in a person's life that seem like perfect snapshots. They're moments, frozen in time and space where everything can be remembered down the core of emotion. Where were you when…? What did you think then…? What did you say…? What did she wear…? A day, if important enough can be recounted color-by-color, breath-by-breath to the minutest detail imaginable. For Joseph Quinn February 15 was one of those days.

Twelve years ago, his life had changed. It seems unfair for him to consider this day any differently from the other days in which the title of Father was bestowed upon him once more. However, unfair it may be, though, that was the case. Four times before, Joseph had waited in front of the heavy oak door, nervously pacing back and forth across carpeted flooring, tracing the intricate design with his eyes (he always hated the carpet Elizabeth had picked for the hallway), and four times before he had entered the room, to find an exhausted yet smiling wife and to have a pink wriggling creature placed into his arms. He had looked at four daughters, counting their fingers and toes and, commenting with his wife, considering the new baby's beautiful features.

_Oh that nose, look at that nose! She has your nose, Joseph._

_Well, I suppose it's just a blessing she didn't get my chin._

Each of his daughters were beautiful angels in his eyes.

Twelve years ago, Joseph had hoped that the routine would be different. He'd hoped that instead of _beautiful _and _her_, the conversation would be filled with _handsome _and _his_. This time, Joseph was hoping for a son, and when the grand door opened, allowing him to see the object on which all his hope centered, he found another baby swaddled in the familiar pink blanket that moved from daughter to daughter along the years. It seemed to be the same routine, with the same vernacular and the same terms of adoration shed across the wrinkled form. Yet, something _had_ changed. It was hard to tell, but something was different, deep down inside and hid so that Joseph could only catch passing glimpses. It wasn't until later; while Elizabeth was sleeping, that Joseph could hold on to this difference for longer than a passing second.

He was standing by the window in their bedroom, staring out over the back of the yard, the disappointment of not holding a son long faded once he saw mother and child were both well. Holding the baby close to his chest, wrapping her in a safe and secure cocoon, he hummed a constant string of words to her.

"Over there is the great tree. It has a swing on it and when you're old enough I'll teach you to swing_._ The flowers that bloom in the springtime are beautiful, full of different shades of green and purple. Your mother loves flowers, and she always has a fresh bouquet of flowers placed on her vanity every morning." He spoke as if the slowly moving girl, _daughter,_ in his arms were listening to him. Walking around the room, he introduced the new baby to each and everything that would soon hold a special place in her life, and when he finally looked down, to stroke the fine of her hair, he found two piercing blue eyes fixated upon him as if she were focused intently on each and every word. Joseph thought his heart skipped. It wasn't possible, really. A child so young was never that alert, and yet, the baby staring back at him seemed fully aware of everything he was saying. Suddenly there was something there, something that Joseph had never felt before with any of his other daughters.

"So do you think you may like it here?" Joseph asked, running a gentle finger under the chubby little chin before adding with a hushed voice, "Michaela?" Was that a smile that he got in return? To his dying day, Joseph Quinn would insist that Michaela's first smile came on the day of her birth, when she was only three hours old. Joseph smiled, why had he ever wanted a son to begin with? Nothing in all his life could replace this feeling. He shifted the baby so that she lay across his chest. "Michaela… Michaela," he repeated her name as if trying to solidify it into his memory. Somehow, the name didn't seem to fit with what it was he was feeling inside. With a breath of contentedness, he bent his head over the baby, watching as her eyes drifted shut in a pleasant slumber. "You may be Michaela to everyone else, but to me, you'll always be my Mike."

It had all happened twelve years ago, and now Joseph sat wondering where all the time had gone. He stood in front of his mirror, adjusting the fluff of fabric at his neck when the clock downstairs struck six. He frowned; they needed to be leaving in an hour. Judging from the quietness at the other end of the hallway, Joseph could tell that Mike hadn't had Martha start her hair. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd heard her emerge from the water closet yet. Bending forward to tussle a few strands of hair at his temple, Joseph gave himself the once over. Somehow, he never quite managed to time his dress with Mike. He always finished early, but, of course, he didn't mind waiting.

Turning to the bed, he reached for his dinner jacket. There wouldn't be a reason to slip into it until they were preparing to leave. With the other hand, he grasped the little velvet bag that was sitting on the edge of his dresser, waiting patiently. Through the fabric, his fingers could feel the fragile teeth of the metal hair comb. It was to be the last touch on Michaela's ensemble for the evening, the final addition to her birthday surprise, and he wanted to take it to her before she was caught in the distraction of trying to dress.

Stepping into Michaela's bedroom, Joseph knew he had been correct. Her clothes were laid neatly across the bed, her shoes, sat quaintly at the foot and her new bottle of perfume patiently waited on her vanity, but there was no Michaela yet.

Joseph thought nothing of stepping into the room, wandering over to where her dress lay, examining the garment for the first time. Rebecca had been right when she was trying to describe the garment to him. It was beautiful and the color was so rich that he could only imagine how it would stand against his Mike's pale skin. He reached a finger out and ran it across the surface of the navy bodice, tugging at it by accident and shifting the dress so that it revealed a different piece of white fabric that had been carefully laid underneath and covered over. Joseph's brow lowered, in distraction. _What is that?_ He wasn't sure he'd ever seen it before. Was it a new dress from the tailors? Snagging the corner of the fabric, he pulled the garment out from beneath the navy. It wasn't anything he had ever expected to find, though he wasn't sure why. The only thing he could think to question was how Michaela come into possession of such a garment. It wasn't something that he'd ever thought to give her, and surely Rebecca would have mentioned it to him. His fingers curled around the mass of satin, boning, and cotton laces when he heard a gasp behind him.

Michaela, not expecting anyone to be in her room, let alone her father, found herself backed against her wall, her heart beating vigorously in her chest at the surprise. Her hands clutched at the towel she had carried with her from the water closet, holding it securely against her chest, mortified that she was wearing nothing but her chemise and drawers. The red tinge of embarrassment crept up her cheeks as she tried her best to cover herself with the measly fabric in her hands, but it was a futile attempt. Although, if she had been without the shock, she would have realized that this was not a new sight to Joseph. He had seen her in her underpinning on multiple occasions, and even now, he wasn't concerned by her dress.

"Father what are you doing in here?" Her tone was rich with anxiety, making her sound as though she wished for him to be banished from her room, though in reality she was still recovering from her scare, and trying to decide what exactly was the uncomfortable feeling that was creeping up her body.

Joseph merely looked at her and lifted the corset that was dangling from his finger by a strap. "What is this?" He countered. Perhaps his tone also was a little too harsh, but he wasn't exactly fond of the idea that she had been hiding such a thing from him, and what's more, he wasn't sure that he wanted Michaela wearing such a garment. Of course all of his other daughters had eventually reached the age where wearing such a garment was a necessity, but Michaela was supposed to be different. She wasn't supposed to be like other girls, she was supposed to be her own, freestanding person! She couldn't conform now, after growing the way she had with all her dreams and freedom. She was supposed to be immune to this, to never question that she wanted to be like the other women- and though Joseph thought it all in bright flashes entering and leaving his minds only quick enough for him to make them out, he realized that there were many flaws in that way of thinking.

Michaela turned a shade darker, if it was even possible. What could she say? Her mind seemed incapable of forming syllables together, and ultimately she chose on not speaking at all, her mouth simply hung open.

"Michaela…" his voice was a warning, using her full name, and it jerked her into action.

"I… um… it…" her eyes shot back and forth, afraid to look at her father in the eye, but not having another place to look. She could feel the pressure building behind her eyes. "It's called a corset." She stated softly, as if Joseph really had no knowledge of what it was he was holding.

"Where did you get it?"

"From Miriam… she um… she said that it would help with…" a tear made its initial track down her cheek, quickly to be followed by another. Her eyes were growing redder in front of Joseph's very eyes. "She said it would help with some… some things." She was openly crying, gasping at empty sobs that prevented her from speaking properly as she clutched the towel tighter to her chest. This was humiliating. "She… said… that her… mother…said it would help." She wiped at her eyes with a flat palm.

Joseph looked at the garment once more, not certain what Michaela was talking about, and alarmed at the suddenness with which her emotions shifted. Did he need to ask? Did he want to? "What would it help with?"

Michaela looked up at him like a tortured animal. Her eyes were wide and pleading with him not to make her continue as she sniffed. Joseph couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't stand there, across the room from her watching her cry and sob over something he didn't know. He dropped the corset on the foot of the bed and crossed to her, but she seemed to recoil from him, pulling herself into the corner between the wall and her armoire. Forced to abandon his desire to embrace his daughter, Joseph settled for a gentle hand on her shoulder, while she was trying to speak.

"Mrs. Hathwell said… she… she said it would… help with… soreness."

Understanding clicked instantly in his mind, and Joseph could feel his own cheeks turn crimson. _Oh mercy_. Guilt clutched at his heart, mixing with the concern that was already over flowing. Of course, she was twelve. She was twelve! Yes, she had _soreness_ and she was growing and had probably many more problems that accompanied her age. _Was she supposed to be immune from that as well?_ He hadn't thought of those things, not once, and now after who knows how long the girl had been dealing with them, he was staring at embarrassment and shame where there need not be any.

"Shh… sshhh." He whispered, moving his hand from her shoulder to pet the soft down of her hair. Despite his gentle strokes and calm tone, though, there remained a level of disconnectedness between them, as Michaela continued to sniffle. Joseph took a deep breath; he needed to think.

"Why don't…" he turned back to look at the clothing scattered across the bed, "why don't you go ahead and get dressed, with… whatever is necessary for you to be comfortable, and then before Martha comes to do your hair, you can come downstairs and talk with me?" Joseph stepped back to see what his Mike would do, as he did so, the thin line of his lips disappeared behind the thick silver of his beard. Michaela just nodded her head, never making eye contact again. "All right. I'll be waiting on you." A final stroke moved from her head, down her reddened cheek.

It took every ounce of strength in Joseph's body to turn away from her, but that was all he could do, for now at least. As he reached the door, grasping the handle to close it behind him, he could hear a soft, "I'm sorry" waft through the air. Somehow, it seemed all wrong. He should be the one apologizing to her.

* * *

Joseph couldn't sit still. He was constantly moving from one task to the next, standing by the window, reshelving some old books, fingering the thin layer of dust that lay over the top of the mantel.

In his mind, he kept sifting through the scene from earlier, hoping that he would get a clue, any inkling of what to say when Mike came down stairs. He hadn't the slightest idea. Words just seemed too empty, void of all meaning.

Possibly the hardest part of the entire situation was how it caught Joseph off guard. He had never considered this to be an option. Joseph could remember the day, seven years ago, when he sat in his sister's parlor, head in hands, and made the decision that he would raise his daughter. He refused to send her to live with Rebecca or allow her to stay with Meg. In his mind, it was the best thing that he could give Mike, the stability of home, of being happy with him. He had stared Meg directly in the eyes and told her that he could be everything Mike needed in life, and that was always the truth, until now. Now she needed something more, something more difficult than a shopping trip with Rebecca and a talk about dress cuts.

Joseph had finally sunk into the corner of a sofa when the soft rustling of fabric grew louder at the door and then stopped. Michaela stood there, dressed in the navy ensemble that simply look exquisite on her. She didn't seem as though she were just turning twelve; fourteen would be more accurate. Her hair was brushed, but undressed and hung across her shoulders in thick waving strands of caramel. The relaxed tresses clashed with the strict elegance of her gown, making her look even more wild and untamed than usual, and Joseph mused that she had always lived life the way she looked now- caught between two worlds, trying to satisfy the constricting convention of Boston while enjoying pure freedom behind the shelter of their front door. Until now, the dual worlds had never affected each other, but that would soon be harder. Boston would soon be beckoning at their door, and while he wanted Michaela to have both worlds if she wished, he didn't know how to provide it for her. He had never had to fight that battle.

Forcing a comforting smile to Michaela, he lifted his hand to her, calling her to him without any words, and she listened. Scratching at her nose, now just a faint shade of pink she crossed the room to him, and gingerly took a seat next to him. She sat, skirt spread over the velvet cushion, hands folded in her lap, and head bowed as Joseph wrapped an arms around her, unconsciously playing with the frizzled strands of hair that fell across her shoulder.

"I feel as though, I owe you an apology." Joseph started slowly, trying to organize his words before he needed to speak them. When he broke the silence, Michaela's wide eyes turned up to him, not understanding why he felt the apology to be his. She was the one who had hidden things from him. "There is a time in a young person's life, whether they be boy or girl, when a lot of things change. It's a strange time, and confusing and there are a lot more questions than answers. It's something that everyone goes through, and it's ok to have those questions." He paused, his fingers running up the base of her neck, threading through her hair. It was a gentle little massage, and Michaela's eyes dropped close to enjoy the feeling.

The mortification that she had felt when she saw her father standing in her room, holding the corset and asking her to explain why she wore it had died down somewhat, and now she felt a mixture of reluctance for the upcoming conversation and relief that this was all over, she didn't have to wait and wonder.

"I owe you an apology because I haven't prepared you for this, or surrounded you with people who could help."

"There's Rebecca…"

"There is…" Joseph nodded, not knowing how to explain that Rebecca in some ways was still discovering her own world. "And she can help you with a lot of things with your dresses and your hair, and flowers and things like that, but there are other things to learn. Like the reasons for the…soreness," he decided on her words, "and the other things that are changing in your body." Joseph didn't add the rest of his thoughts, but they were whirling in his mind. He had to find someone who could teach Michaela to be the women that she dreamed of becoming, to give her the chance to make her dreams come true- if that's what she still wanted. He needed someone far wiser that Rebecca could ever be, someone who had fought these battles before. His mind was reeling through everything, talking to Michaela while trying to solve the problem at hand on his own, and then suddenly the answer came. He knew exactly what he needed to do.

Michaela noticed the change, though she didn't know what had caused it. His face relaxed and all the wrinkles of anxieties blended seamlessly in what was almost a youthful appearance. When he looked at her, his eyes were calm, and she believed the sincerity of his words when he hugged her and said, "I promise this will get better. I will make this better." Instantly, Michaela's own spirit calmed. She didn't need to know where or how, just that it would happen. She trusted him to keep his word. "Now, why don't you go upstairs and let Martha fix your hair. We still have plenty of time to eat before the theater."

Michaela sat a little straighter. "You mean we're still going?"

"Of course we are, if you want to at least." His eyes narrowed on her face, waiting for her answer. He was relieved when her mouth stretched into a happy grin, and nodded. She hadn't been upset enough to not enjoy their evening. In fact, it was possible that she would have an even better and carefree time than if they hadn't had this talk. Joseph laughed, feeling the tension lift, if only for a few hours. "Then run along." Following his instructions, Michaela propelled herself from the sofa. He could hear her excited footsteps bouncing off the stairs.

Joseph sat still for a moment, feeling the hard outline of his pocket watch through his vest, his mind thinking back over the conversation he'd just had. He shifted through the problem, until he came face to face with his solution, his _blessings_. Michaela was past the age of needing a sister, an older girl who she could do similar things with. Now, she needed someone who could play the role of mother, and he knew exactly who that was.

Joseph pulled out his pocket watch and with a quick press, flicked the facing of the watch open. He considered the time; he had at least ten minutes or more if Michaela's hair proved untamable. It was plenty to time to do what he needed, and then to have the night free for complete enjoyment without anything to distract his mind.

Rising from the couch, he crossed the room and pulled a few blank pieces of stationary from his desk. He dipped his pen into the inkwell, slowly, pausing to collect his words. Squinting at the bare whiteness before him as if he could already see the scroll of black words across the emptiness, he slowly put tip to paper and scrolled the first words in his slanted script. Before beginning a new line, though, he paused, lifting the paper up, blowing across the wet ink before examining the words. They were empty words in themselves, but recalled to a time gone by, a promise once made and the need to call to the presence that promise now.

_My Dearest Sister,_

Nodding, silently to himself Joseph lowered the paper back to his desk to finish his letter. Michaela would be ready soon and he didn't want to make her wait.

* * *

_Well guys, that's the end of part 1! I hope you enjoyed the first part, even with the mysterious absence of some of our favorite characters. Thank you for your patience, and keep your eyes peeled for Part II coming soon!_


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